Hospice Bears

The day that my mom was admitted to hospice was difficult. In a way, it felt like we were giving up on her. We knew she wouldn't get any better, but the word hospice just sounds so final. My dad had been in "at home hospice" two years before, so we knew how wonderful all the workers were. But we hadn't planned on losing Mother so soon after losing Daddy. Mother knew she had cancer, but didn't want to know "how long" she was expected to live. She was still pretty alert on the day we chose hospice and we actually asked her if she was ok with it. She knew it meant being able to stay at the hospital rather than returning to the nursing home. At the hospital, her pain could be controlled better and I think to some degree she knew that all of our family would be taken care of there too. But she knew what hospice meant...her life was coming to an end. She agreed that she was ok with hospice.

One of the workers asked if there were any grandchildren who might have a hard time in dealing with the grief of losing Grandma. That turned the faucet to my tears on high. Lauren had such a rough time when Grandpa died that I was very worried about how Grandma's death would affect her. I told the hospice worker that. She was fabulous. She brought me all kinds of information on how kids of different ages deal with grief and how to talk to them about it. Then she asked if she could give me a teddy bear for Lauren...kind of last gift from Grandma. I, of course, said yes. While she was gone getting the bear for me, it hit me that I had two other kids who wouldn't understand why Lauren got a 'hospice bear' if they didn't. So, when she returned with the bear, I told her my dilemma. She quickly found two more bears. None of the bears are identical. The first she brought was littler than the other two. Lauren was always petite, so it made sense that one would go to her. The other two were like each other, except for color. I put the bears on Grandma's bed and again my heart and Mother's had a conversation. I knew she agreed which kid would get which bear.

It was days after Mother's funeral before I was able to give the bears to my kids without breaking down. As I expected, Evan shed the most tears over his bear. That tender heart of his just overflowed once again. I honestly don't remember Danielle and Lauren's initial responses to their bears, other than that they both thought it was sweet.

Since the day that Evan got his bear, it has been sitting on the shelf of his headboard on his bed. When I see it, I think of Grandma looking over him as he sleeps. I don't mention his bear to him, because when I have, it always brings tears to his eyes. He is content to have the bear sitting there. It doesn't travel with us, but rather stays behind to guard the house!

Danielle, at 15, sleeps with Grandma Bear as she calls it. About a month after my mom's funeral, Danielle and I went to Rochester to the funeral of a friend's dad. We stayed at my sister's house. Danielle and I were sharing a room. In the night, I could hear her and looking for something in the dark. When I asked what she was looking for, her answer was, "My Grandma Bear". That made me smile as I didn't know she had brought it along. Ever since then, Grandma Bear always goes with us on overnight trips.

Lauren named her bear Max, since Grandma's name was Maxine. But Lauren insists that Max is a boy. When I tuck Lauren into bed at night, I have 3 that I have to give kisses to in her bed. And they are always in the same order: Berry (her pink bear that Dani gave her on her first birthday. Lauren remembers Grandma always liking Berry, since she is pink), then Max (the littlest so he has to be in the middle) and finally Lauren, the only one who kisses me back! It's also a good thing we have a van, because Berry, Max and The Grandma Blanket always go with us if we travel far from home.

Those 'hospice bears' were such a wonderful idea. At the time I was only thinking of how to help the kids through those rough first weeks and months. Little did I know how much those bears would still be helping a year later. The funny thing is, I think the bears help me as much as they help my kids.

The Grandma Blanket

When my mom's 86th birthday was approaching, Lauren decided that she wanted to make a fleece tie blanket for Grandma. Lauren was almost 8 at the time and had become quite close to Grandma, especially since Grandpa's death. Together, Lauren and I went to the fabric store to pick out the fleece. When we saw the right fabric, we both knew it. It was pink with butterflies. Grandma's favorite color was pink and she would love the butterflies. We also picked a hot pink for the back of the blanket. I helped Lauren with some of the cutting, but she tied the whole blanket. The blanket was wrapped in a large box covered with pink wrapping paper. Grandma had Lauren help her unwrap the present. My mom loved that blanket. She loved that it was pink and had butterflies. But most of all, she loved that Lauren had made it for her with love.

By this point, my mom was having trouble getting around much. She spent a lot of her time sitting in her living room in her lift chair. She even slept there at night. When we visited, she would ask us to help cover her with blankets when she was going to sleep. She was always cold so she liked to have more than one blanket covering her. When I covered her, I put the pink blanket from Lauren (from now on I'll call it The Grandma Blanket) on last so that she could see it. She asked me to re-do it, putting The Grandma Blanket on first so that it could be closer to her heart. For more than a year, Mother used that blanket every single day. And I have no doubt that she thought of Lauren every time and felt her love.

Shortly after she went into the nursing home, Mother asked to have The Grandma Blanket brought there. There she used it as the top cover. I am sure that was mostly so she could show it to all who visited her. She never failed to tell anyone that her granddaughter, Lauren, had made it for her. When Mother was kept in the hospital in LaCrosse, after her appointment on June 8, she was without that blanket for a few days. When we visited her that weekend, after finding out she had cancer, Eric and the kids went back to the Caledonia nursing home to get The Grandma Blanket and Daddy's picture for my mom. Grandma was very happy to have that blanket back again. From that day on, it covered her and blanketed her with Lauren's love.

As the days went on and we knew her time with us was coming to an end, I wondered what we should do with that blanket when Mother died. Part of me wanted to bury the blanket with my mom so that it would always be close to her heart. Part of me wanted to give it back to Lauren so she could always feel Grandma's love. I talked to some of my sisters about it a little. I even talked to my mom about it. I don't know if I talked out loud with her or if it was just our hearts talking to each other. I know that she didn't speak out loud to me about it, but I could hear what she was telling me. She wanted Lauren to have it. Anything that would help Lauren after she was gone, was what she wanted. She knew the rough time Lauren had when Grandpa died and didn't want her to hurt so badly again. Then I had an idea in my heart and I knew that Mother's heart agreed.

When my mom died, Eric, Evan and Lauren were at home in the twin cities. Danielle was in Rockford, Illinois (more to follow on that in another entry). I called home later that evening and talked to Evan and Lauren to let them know I was OK. I remember telling each of them that I was certain Grandma was in Heaven with Grandpa. I then told Lauren that I had an idea about what to do with The Grandma Blanket. I told her it was up to her, but my thought was to cut the blanket in half and re-tie the cut edge on each half. Then we could send half of it with Grandma and she could keep the other half. Lauren immediately agreed and told me that as soon as I said I had an idea, the very same idea popped into her mind.

So, we brought the blanket home with us and I made the necessary cut. It was hard for me to do, but I knew both Lauren and Grandma were on board. Lauren tied the new edge on each of the blankets. I admit I didn't do a perfect job in my cutting. Lauren quickly decided that the blanket that looked better would go with Grandma.

When we met with Jeff (the funeral director) to plan the funeral, I told him our idea and asked if it would work. He, of course, said yes. At that point, I'm sure nothing I asked or told him would surprise him! Still, I amazed at how wonderfully he made the blanket work. While the new blanket seemed tiny compared to the original, it was the perfect size to fit in the casket. He placed it over Grandma's legs. Most of it didn't show when the lower cover of the casket was closed. But several inches showed and Grandma's hands were lovingly crossed on top of the blanket. It was beautiful and complimented the pink that she was wearing. So many people commented on the blanket and told Lauren what a great job she had done.

As for Lauren's half of The Grandma Blanket, it is draped across the foot of her bed. Some mornings, Lauren will come downstairs with the blanket around her shoulders. Sometimes, her two special bears (another blog entry idea) are wrapped in the blanket. If she's scared in the night, we pull the blanket up from the foot of her bed. When we go somewhere overnight, The Grandma Blanket goes with us. I am sure Grandma is smiling as she looks down from Heaven and sees that blanket is as special to Lauren as it was to her. Grandma said she wanted that special blanket closest to her heart. As much as she felt Lauren's love from the blanket, I'm pretty certain that some of the love from her own heart spilled out onto The Grandma Blanket. I feel it every time I see the blanket.

Turn Off The Bacon

When Mother was admitted to hospice, we were given a small notebook and told we should write down things that she said. This was one of the best pieces of advice I have ever been given. At the time, it seemed like we would always remember the things Mother said, but our minds were overwhelmed and we were overtired. There was no way we could remember it all if it wasn't in writing. We were told that only some of what she said would probably make sense to us at the time. The hospice workers said that at some point down the road, some of the "nonsense" might start to make sense as well. We began to write things down. At first we only wrote some of what she said and the day she said it. As the days went on, we obviously became more desperate in our attempts to hold on to any little bit of her. We started writing down everything she said, including the time she said it.

After Mother died, I brought the notebook home with me. Over the past year, I have looked back many times at the things she said. When I read it, the raw emotions all come rushing back to me. I am back in that hospice room again. Yet, what amazes me the most is that I also can feel God's presence, just as I did when we were in that room. I have always believed in God, but like most people, I have had my doubts along the way. But I clearly remember that after my mom died, I told Eric and my kids that after spending that time with Mother, any doubts I ever had about God and Heaven were forever erased. Of course, being human, I occasionally find myself questioning things again. All I have to do is pull out the notebook and that certainty is restored in me.

Over time, I will probably share a lot of the things Mother said to us, especially in her last day. But for now I will share one very odd thing that she said to me. It was the night before her last day, and she suddenly looked at me and said, "Turn off the bacon." We had been told by hospice that the dying often have loose ends to tie up and some of the things they say are doing just that, even if they make no sense to us. We were advised to agree with what Mother said rather than to discount it as nonsense. So when she told me to "turn off the bacon", I told her I would. A few moments later, I told her that I had. I doubt that I will ever know what exactly she meant by telling me that. However, when I thought about those words a few weeks later, they brought me to tears.

A few months before Mother died, Eric and I had gone to a production of Our Town at a local theater. It's a play that has been done countless times, but it was the first time I had ever seen it. It is the story of a girl who grows up, falls in love with and marries the boy next door. She then dies in childbirth. After her death she is given the option to go back to one day of her life. She chooses her 12th birthday. When she goes back, she is both reliving the day and watching herself relive it. The play had very few props used throughout. However, in the scene where she goes back to her 12th birthday, there are many props and much detail in the scenery. There was an actual stove upon which her mom was cooking bacon. Real bacon. In the audience, we could hear it sizzling and could smell the aroma of the frying bacon. As she watches herself reliving that day, the young woman tries to tell her 12 year old self and her parents to pay attention to everything, to every detail. Of course, it is all to no avail as they can't hear her. The young woman is very upset and comments that we never pay attention to the little things when we are living and how important those little things really are.

How very true. And it was all brought back to me by that comment to turn off the bacon. I am quite certain that Mother never saw Our Town or was in any way referring to it with her statement. But, it got me thinking about the different sights and sounds and smells from my own childhood. Things pushed to the back of my adult mind over the years. Things that I now remember and associate with my mom and growing up. The scent of paint will forever remind me of Mother's love of repainting rooms and putting up new curtains to refresh the rooms in the house. If I close my eyes, I can still smell tomatoes cooking on the stove and see the windows fogged up from the heat. I remember the sweet smell and sticky mess of the dozens of ears of corn we'd cook and cut off the cob for freezing. I can hear her voice telling us kids not to eat too much sweet roll dough or it would rise in our stomaches. I can see Mother hanging laundry on the clothes line and can smell the fresh air in the clothes when they were brought in.

If only I'd known then how important those days really were. But I know now. I told Mother that I turned off the bacon. But I think she'd be okay with me turning it back on again.

Liquid Brown Eyes

During the days that Mother was in hospice, I tried to memorize everything about her. Knowing that we were about to lose her, I didn't want to miss any little detail. Her eyes were what I found myself focusing on much of the time. When she was awake and talking, it was natural to look into her eyes. As time went on, her eyes became a bit glazed, but at the time, the word that came to my mind was liquid. I still clearly remember those liquid brown eyes. Following is something I wrote on one of my many sleepless nights after her death.


                                        Liquid Brown Eyes

They are the eyes your parents looked into on the day you were born
They are the eyes Daddy looked into and fell in love
They are the eyes each of your children looked into and felt comfort and love
They are the eyes that witnessed the greatest joys in life and twinkled
They are the eyes that shed countless tears over a lifetime's heartaches
They are the eyes that recognized me
     and looked into my own tear stained eyes as you were in hospice
They are the eyes that told me you knew you were dying
    without you ever actually saying the words
They are the eyes I could tell were seeing beyond this world,
    seeing the beauty that lies ahead
They are the eyes I will never forget

You Call Those Things Blessings?

At the end of last year, I decided that I wouldn't make a New Year's resolution. Instead, I would choose a word to focus on for 2012. I had read of others who had done this and it seemed like a fun idea to me. The word that first popped into my head was "Blessings". I actually tried to talk myself out of that word, but decided there must be a reason why it popped into my head in the first place, so I went with it. My thought was that I would focus on all the blessings I have in my life and also on trying to be a blessing to others. I encouraged Eric to choose a word as well. After some thought, he chose the word "Joyful". Eric is truly one of the most mellow guys I know. While he is outgoing and friendly, I thought choosing the word joyful was going to be a challenge for him. Honestly I kind of expected a word like "Golf".

In the first days and weeks of 2012, we'd call each other "Blessing" and "Joyful" when we'd notice the other NOT being a blessing or joyful. It was just a funny little reminder to focus on the word.

Before the first week of the new year was over, I learned that a former acquaintance and his wife had lost their 13 year old daughter to a brain tumor. In mid January, I learned that my sister, Jo, had breast cancer and would be having a mastectomy. The last day of January, I narrowly missed witnessing as accident where a pedestrian was struck and killed by a car driven by a drunk driver. The woman killed had lost her husband only a few months earlier and left behind two children, one special needs. Why on earth had I chosen the word blessings?  I should have chosen a word like tragedy or unfair. 

I began reading the blog of the family who lost their daughter. It was obvious how truly loved and loving she was. The many people who have been there for the family during her illness and since her death have definitely been a blessing to them. It was a blessing that Jo's breast cancer was in the earliest stages. After the mastectomy and reconstruction, she didn't need any radiation or chemo.  And she told me that after a couple of her appointments after diagnosis, on her drive home there were beautiful pink sunsets. We had come to think of pink sunsets as a gift from God telling us Mother was ok. Now Jo saw it as a sign that she'd be ok too. The family of the pedestrian killed issued a statement forgiving the drunk driver. What an incredible blessing that was.

As I think back to my parents last years, there were a lot of struggles for both of them. My dad needed help with his most basic needs: dressing, eating, using the bathroom. At first he refused to let anyone but my mom help him. Finally he agreed to home health aides coming to help. Eventually he relented and let us kids help him as well. While the thought of helping him use the bathroom made me very uncomfortable at first, I quickly got over it. Now when I look back I realize that helping him with his basic needs actually helped him and I to grow closer. My brother, Mike had decided to farm on the family farm in the year before my dad died. He later commented that he was glad he had made that decision as it put him at the farm every evening to help get my dad into bed, which helped them grow closer as well. More blessings!

In February of 2011, I got a call that Mother had been taken by ambulance to LaCrosse. Jo and a home health nurse had been unable to wake her from a nap. When they checked her blood sugar, it was dangerously low. Thankfully she was ok and came home from the hospital the same day. None of us felt comfortable leaving her in the house alone, so I spent a week at the farm with her. I was happy to do it at the time, but in the months to come, I actually found that episode to be a blessing. I wouldn't have had that week with her otherwise. I'm not sure how much of a blessing she found it to be however. I was paranoid of her blood sugar dropping again, so I wole her several times each night and checked her blood sugar every few hours. She's lucky she had any blood left when I went home!

Even though we ended up losing my mom last summer, we were blessed with a wonderful and caring hospice staff. They were so wonderful to Mother and our whole family. My mom was blessed to have her family all be able to make it to see her. I feel so blessed to have spent the last 5 days of her life with her and to be there with her when she took her final breath.

I know there are many situations where it is hard to find a blessing. With Memorial Day approaching I am specifically thinking of two families near where I grew up whose lives were forever changed two years ago on Memorial Weekend. While my parents had lived long lives when they died, these families had to say good bye to loved ones who were far from old.

On Friday evening, May 28, 2010, a 15 year old boy, Shane was driving an atv home from a neighbor's where he helped with farm chores. While noone knows exactly what happened, he had an accident on the way home and was killed.

The next morning, a young father, Jeremy was driving with his 3 year old daughter, Isabel and 11 month old son, Liam. A truck was driving the opposite direction on the same road. That truck was pulling a trailer which came unhitched and hit Jeremy's vehicle. Jeremy and Isabel were killed.

How horrible and tragic both of these accidents were. Where are the blessings here? While I know we will never know the full answer to that question, this side of Heaven, there are some blessings that happened.

Jeremy had both of his children in the vehicle with him. While he and Isabel went to Heaven that day, Liam was not injured in the accident. What a blessing (miracle) that was. Jeremy's wife, Kristie, wrote about life after losing them, as well as what life had been like with them before the accident. She has as awesome faith that is so apparent in her writings. While she may say that all the people who reached out to her after the accident were blessings to her, I am willing to bet that anyone who has read her writings will agree that she has been a blessing and inspiration to them. I know that even though I have never met her, I count her as a blessing in my life.

As for finding a blessing in Shane's death, his grandma and I have been "talking" on facebook. Shane was related to me through my dad. I never had the priviledge of knowing Shane, but I am impressed by what his grandma told me. He had recently gotten his driver's permit and had signed up to be a donor. His family recently learned that he blessed dozens and dozens of people by signing up to be a donor. While it won't bring him back, it should make his family very proud. And I am sure that each of the families he touched considers him to be an incredible blessing.

I know that many times in my life the greatest blessings have been others being there for me, the people who lift me up when I'm feeling low. Even the smile of a stranger has been a blessing at times. I try to remind myself to be the blessing to others. It's easy when you meet friendly people, but sometimes I think it's the unfriendly ones that need me to be a blessing the most. Who knows what is going on in there life? Maybe they have lost someone. Maybe there have just been diagnosed with cancer. Maybe they just need a smile. Maybe they just need someone to be a blessing to them.

What I am learning is that when I'm not feeling blessed, it probably means it's my turn to be a blessing to someone else.  It's a funny thing. When you are a blessing to others, you suddenly feel blessed as well. And maybe even joyful.

Don't Sleep-Don't Rest

In the first weeks and months after Mother died, I had a lot sleepless nights. Many times I'd grab a pen and paper and jot down little things I remembered from the time Mother spent in hospice. They were things that I didn't want to forget. Things that I one day would want to write about. Just getting the idea down on paper helped me to relax enough to sleep. All these months later I am finally starting to write about some of the things I jotted down. Some nights I needed to get more than an idea down. On those nights, words and emotions flowed out of my pen. I stuck those writings away and just pulled them out tonight.

Following is something I wrote on one of those nights.

Don't Sleep-Don't Rest
For Death is fast approaching-
Each moment you are asleep
is one less moment of our time together-
I need every minute, every second now
to learn every tiny thing I never before
thought to ask-
All too soon you will be gone-
Please stay awake-
I never before realized
how precious every moment was
Don't Sleep-Don't Rest
Stay with me a while longer.

Wedding Bells for a Granddaughter

This coming Saturday, my niece (and goddaughter), Anne will be getting married. She was one of the flower girls in our wedding nearly twenty years ago. Anne will make a beautiful bride and her soon to be husband, Mike, is getting a wonderful woman to be his wife. She is sweet, funny, talented and very family oriented. She has the tender heart that my dad had. It's the same tender heart that Evan has. In fact, at my dad's visitation, Evan climbed into Anne's lap, and the two of them shed more than a few tears together.

In mid summer of 2010, Anne and her fiance, Mike, traveled to China together. They went to spend 10 months there, teaching English to Chinese children. What a wonderful opportunity for them. But also, what an incredibly long time away from family and friends. I am sure my mom wondered if she'd still "be around" when Anne got back. She was doing fine when they left for China, but at age 86 she had several long time health issues so I know the thought had crossed her mind. Grandma (if I use that word in this post, I mean my mom) loved to read the e-mails that Anne would send from China letting us know of her and Mike's adventures. Holidays were difficult without Anne here and I'm sure they were really hard on Anne. I did ship her a tiny little Christmas tree, solar lights and ornaments to make it feel like Christmas. I had to chuckle that the ornaments said right on the box, "Made in China"! On a couple of the holidays, Anne phoned Grandma. Grandma was so happy to hear her voice!

June 5, 2011 was the date that Anne and Mike were scheduled to return. In looking back through e-mails between my siblings from last year, I know that we all were concerned and praying that Mother would hold on until then. I think we also knew that if Mother had any control over the situation, she would hang on so she and Anne could see each other again. I found an e-mail from my sister, Char, dated 5/26/11 titled "Good Day", saying that she had gone to the nursing home to visit my mom and Mother was dressed and looked great and seemed like her old self again. The day before, she had an appointment in LaCrosse where the Dr thought he'd found the cause of her pain. He had given her a "cocktail" injection in her hip. My mom was so excited that it had eased her pain. She talked to Char about going home to the farm. In one of my replies to Char that day, I told her that I'd love to see Mother get home again and that if she did, I'd throw her a party. Little did we know that in a few short weeks she would be going home...but it would be to her Heavenly Home.

Reading those e-mails now, brings back the memories of hope we had that day. I saw Mother just a few days later and she still was feeling great. I specifically remember her telling me that even if it didn't last, she was very thankful for every pain free day she had. Maybe she had a feeling it wouldn't last. Maybe God was giving her some relief so she could hang on a bit longer. I know I am very grateful she had those pain free days as well.

Anne and Mike made it back to the U.S. on June 5. From what I recall, Anne talked to Grandma by phone on the 7th and the pain was just starting again. On the morning of the 8th, the pain was worse than ever. She had a follow up appointment in LaCrosse that day. They admitted her to the hospital. The whole time she was in the nursing home, I had prayed that if there was going to be bad news, that it wouldn't come until after two things happened....Anne got back from China and my kids got out of school for the year. The last day of school was June 9. On the morning of June 10, we received the news that it was cancer. Sometimes, God answers our prayers down to the very specific details. This was one of those times. June 10th was the date that Anne made it down to see Grandma. God had answered our prayers for Anne and Grandma to see each other. I think after that, Mother started the process of letting go of this life.

I'm sure that family reading this noticed the significance of the date that I received that e-mail from Char. For those of you who didn't, this coming Saturday, when Anne will get married, is May 26th. Last year on that date, after months of unbearable pain, after weeks of being in a nightgown, Mother asked to get dressed, she was pain free and she was her old self, talking and being thankful. I know this Saturday, Anne will be missing Grandma. We all will be. But if we must look back to a year ago, let us look back exactly one year to May 26th, 2011. That was a good day for Grandma. And in my heart I know that this May 26th will be as well. Grandma and Grandpa will be dressed in Heaven's finest. They will have a perfect view of the wedding. And I know they will be proudly telling all their friends and family in Heaven, "That's our beautiful granddaughter!"

Anne and Mike, I know Grandpa and Grandma's greatest wish for you is to be blessed with a love like they had and to have many wonderful years together. May you feel their love with you on Saturday and always.

Garage Sale Treasures and Funeral Food

For the last week I've been helping get ready for our annual church garage sale. Today was the opening day of the sale and I found a treasure. I bought myself an antique Victrola. I don't usually have an interest in antiques, but this caught my eye. When looking throught the attic at the farm several months ago, we found old albums that belonged to my grandma. Some of my siblings recalled that my grandma used to have a Victrola, but it had long ago quit working and was disposed of. I had brought one album home from the farm, but had no way to play it. When I saw the Victrola at church, I drove home and got my album to try. It was so cool. Certainly not digital quality music, but there was something about the thought of my grandparents and my dad sitting and listening to this very music decades ago, that made me want the Victrola. It is now sitting in my living room. I'm sure the kids think I'm crazy amd Eric might too, but he knows better than to say it!

This annual church garage sale has landed me some other treasures as well and I didn't pay anything for them. It started a couple years ago. It was my first time ever dropping off clothes for the sale and there were boxes and bags stacked in numerous piles. At the time, there was only one lady working to unpack and organize it all. While my instinct was to drop my donation and run, something made me ask the woman working there if she'd like my help. She was quick to accept my offer. As I helped unpack, fold and organize clothes, I got to know a little about this lady, Sheila. She is fun loving and kind and married to a guy that is perfect for her. She was so sweet that I have gone back to help each year. It was during the preparation for the sale last year that my mom's health took a sharp decline. Sheila was there to listen and give me hugs. I don't know if I actually got any work done there last year, but Sheila never mentioned that. Instead she listened to me, cried with me and even sent a beautiful plant to my mom's funeral. I was so incredibly touched when I saw who it was from. I have even managed to keep the plant alive all this time.  She and I have shared stories of our families. There are so many similarities. Sheila has had more than her share of loss and yet hasn't become bitter.  Instead, she is caring and compassionate and gives freely of her time. In hearing her story, God's hand is so apparent in the wonderful things that have come her way, even though she has endured many trials along the way. I am certain that God put her in my path. I have learned a lot about faith from her. Sheila also introduced me to her friend, Sam, who you will hear more about shortly.

About one and a half years ago, I saw a sign at church asking people to volunteer to help at church funerals. Something told me that I should sign up, so I did. I received calls a few times and dropped off food. When I actually got called to work for a funeral, I met another incredible lady. LuAnn is in charge of the church kitchen, including organizing funeral luncheons. I knew who she was before, but had no idea what a giving and kind person she was. She is so appreciative of the people who help her and is truly one of the most organized and giving people I know. She is also very personable and sweet. When I signed up to help with funerals, I didn't realize that I was actually signing up to make a wonderful friend.

About this time last year, Mother was in horrible pain and things were looking very grim. I was emotionally exhausted and recalled seeing something in a recent church bulletin about urgent prayer requests and a prayer chain. I remembered that it had said to call LuAnn if you needed either of these things. I was a wreck and figured prayers couldn't hurt. I also knew that as hard as I was crying, there was no way I could even speak if I called LuAnn, so I sent her a note on facebook (she had friended me a while back). I had a message back from her in no time. She contacted others to pray for my mom (none of them had ever met my mom and yet they were praying for her). LuAnn checked in with me often to see how both my mom and I were doing. The funny thing is, if the person to contact for prayer requests had not been someone I knew I never would have contacted them. I'm not one to ask that of someone I don't know. I was comfortable asking her though. It occured to me that maybe that "something" that told me to sign up for helping at funerals was in fact God making sure that LuAnn was in my path.

On one occasion, I received a note from LuAnn that there was a there was a prayer shawl waiting at church for me to take to my mom. Some wonderful people at church knit these for people who are in need of prayers, whether they are ill, grieving, or carrying the weight of the world for whatever reason. The idea is that the person receiving the shawl wraps it around themself and when they pray, they will feel the love and prayers of the church. Little did I know when I picked up the prayer shawl  to take to my mom, that God was at work once again. The prayer shawl set aside for my mom was bright pink. I hadn't told LuAnn or anyone else that pink was my mom's favorite color. It made me smile to see the pink shawl. When I gave it to my mom, she said, "They made it for me? They don't even know me!" She was touched that my church sent it for her. This was during her final week so it was to difficult for her to sit up and drape the shawl around herself. Instead, we placed it across her on her bed. Several times, she held onto it with her hands. I think it helped me as much as it helped her to see that shawl and know that people in my church were praying for her. After my mom died, I brought the shawl home with me. When I was feeling especially down, I would wrap the shawl around myself and feel the love of my mom, my church and God. Many times, I fell asleep wrapped in the shawl. Last fall, at a bible study that I go to, some of us shared about "signs" one day. An acquaintance of mine, Sam (who I met through Sheila while working at the garage sale), commented that she must not be praying right, because she never saw any signs like some of us had. A few weeks later, I shared some things, including how the prayer shawl I'd received for my mom was pink, which was my mom's favorite color and how it made me feel like I was receiving a little hug from God when I saw it was pink. After the bible study, Sam stopped me and told me that she was sure she had made the shawl that my mom ended up with. When she was picking up yarn to make a shawl months earlier, she saw the bright pink yarn and thought it looked cheerful so she chose it. I told her that God obviously was sending us both a sign right there. Since that day, Sam and I have called each other sisters. She never had a sister and I had room for another. As if that sign wasn't enough, that same day at bible study, we all put our names in a hat and drew the name of another to pray for until our next class. I smiled when I saw that I had drawn Sam's name. Later, I found out that Sam had also picked my name. What were the chances? There were about 40 of us in the class and we drew each others names. Yet another sign and yet another person placed in my path by God.

These are just a few of the people I've met while volunteering at church. As I get to know each of them, I am reminded that we each cross paths for a reason. We may not know the reason right away. But down the road, sometimes the reason becomes apparent. When that happens, you can't help but be in awe of God's love for us. 
I never would have guessed what true treasures I would find at the church garage sale. While the Victrola is awesome, the friends I have met there are priceless. I also never realized before that God works through funeral food and facebook. I guess it's true that God works in mysterious ways.

Birthdays

Forty-six years ago today my mom gave birth to her 9th and final baby...me. I was born on a Sunday, which happened to be my sister Linda's confirmation day. Thanks to me, my mom missed that important day in Linda's life. So from my very first day I was the little sister messing things up for my siblings!  Since I had that reputation early on, I got married to Eric on Linda's 40th birthday. It was not deliberate, but was the only Saturday open at the church.

I was born 4 years after my brother, Mike. Mother always told me that my siblings enjoyed watching me grow and learn new things since I was quite a bit younger than them. I wonder how many of them would agree with that today. As the youngest, Mother always referred to me as her baby. That was cute until I was about 10. Then being called her baby lost it's charm. Some where in my late 20's or early 30's I liked the sound of it again. Today I would love to hear her call me "my baby" once again.

When I was a kid, Mother would make us our favorite meal on our birthday. I remember always choosing her hotdish. It was basically hamburger, elbow macoroni, kidney beans, tomato juice and some seasoning. For dessert she would bake me a chiffon cake with chocolate frosting. For many years those cakes were decorated with the hard candy like cake decorations you could buy in the grocery store. Sometime when I was in high school, my mom enrolled in a couple of cake decorating classes. Then our birthday cakes had yummy tasting flower decorations. She loved decorating cakes. She would buy or rent character cake pans too. My nephew Chris always got a Mickey Mouse cake on his birthday. He always claimed the ears tasted the best. Just recently, Donna, a long time neighbor of my parents reminded me of the time my mom found out that two of Donna's kids had birthdays approaching. My mom made them a Bert and Ernie cake. That was decades ago, but Donna said her kids have always remembered it.

It's kind of funny to me that I remember the food Mother would make on my birthday, but don't really remember any of the birthday presents my parents gave me when I was growing up. I know there were always presents, I just don't recall what they were. Or did we always get money in our birthday card like we did as adults? Maybe that proves that the little things really are the things we remember down the road. Or maybe it just proves I have an obsession with food.

I wonder how my mom felt the day I was born. I'm sure she felt guilty for missing Linda's confirmation. She was probably very nervous with each baby she had after Cindy was stillborn. Hearing me cry that first time, must have been music to her ears, just as my own children's first cries were to mine. When I was pregnant with Danielle, I was very afraid that the umbilical cord would wrap around her neck and she would be stillborn like Cindy. My doctor assured me that was a very rare occurrence. Danielle must have known I was still worried. She was delivered by c-section. As soon as I I heard her cry, I was relieved and asked the doctor, "What is it?" meaning was it a girl or a boy. His answer was, "It's a head!" Yes, she was already crying when just her head was out! (Sorry if that is too much information!) When I was pregnant with Lauren and Evan, I was considered high risk because I was having twins. That of course worried me, but a strange thing happened when I was pregnant with them. Everytime I saw a rainbow in the sky, it was always a double rainbow. It happened so many times that I actually started to believe that it was God sending me a sign (a double sign) that both babies would be fine. I did have some preterm labor and was on bed rest for six weeks. When they were delivered by c-section at 37 weeks, hearing their two healthy cries was beautiful. 

In the first real memories I have of Mother, I am sitting in her lap in a rocking chair in the living room at the farm and she is rocking me to sleep singing Rock A Bye Baby, in her off key singing voice. (I inherited that same off-key singing voice!) The next memory I have of her is of her cleaning the house and humming and singing Love is a Many Splendored Things...yes that was off key too. Funny, I don't sing when I clean house. Seems like I'm usually grumbling about how noone in our house ever picks up after themselves. Maybe I'll try singing next time. I'll try to do it quietly so the dogs next door don't start howling. I remember many times telling my mom I was bored and her answer was always, "I wish I had time to be bored." I never understood that as a kid. As a mom, I understand completely.

Last week, Lauren asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I asked her if I could just skip having a birthday this year. She answered, "Only if you are a Leap Day baby!" That was exactly what my mom was, born on February 29, 1924. We always thought it was the coolest thing that she only had a "real" birthday every four years. We teased my dad about robbing the cradle, since he was 29 and married my mom when she was really only 5 1/2. On "real" birthdays, Mother would receive tons of birthday cards and calls from half of Caledonia. One year the Caledonia Argus even wrote an article on her being a Leap Day baby. I recently found two tiny items in the Winona newspaper  from 1928 and 1932 when Mother had her first two "real" birthdays. Both talked about how her mom gave her a special birthday party to celebrate her Leap Day birthday. I thought it was neat, since we always made an extra big deal for her birthday in Leap Years as well. In 2008, when Mother turned 21, we all teased her that she was finally legal to drink.

This year is a Leap Year, so Mother would have had a real birthday. It was very hard for me leading up to that day. The "firsts" after a loved one's death are especially hard. The fact that there would be a Leap Day, made it very hard. The weather forecast a few days before the 29th, was for lots of snow. We hadn't had any significant snow all winter. I told the kids that Grandma was up in Heaven trying to convince God to give them a snow day for her birthday. Here in the Twin Cities, it is an extremely rare event to have a snow day. Danielle is 15, and I could only recall her ever having one snow day. But my kids were hoping. Then the forecast changed. Snow was no longer expected when we went to bed on the 28th. When I awoke just before 6 am on the 29th, there was quite a bit of snow on the ground...more than we'd seen all winter. But I still doubted it was enough to cancel school. I told Eric that if school was going to be cancelled, the district makes the decision by 6 a.m. At 6:01, the phone rang. It was an automated message from the school district. There was a snow day! I have never seen the kids get out of bed so fast...ever! They were out playing in the snow by 6:15. They spent the entire day outside. And I swear they were convinced Grandma had something to do with it. While I'm not sure, I do know that if there was any way she could pull that off, she would have. What I do know is that I will never forget that snow day and the fact that it made that "first" a little easier on us.

In thinking about my birthday, I pulled out my baby book. It tells me I was born at 11:53am. (Apparently just in time for lunch, which might be where my food obession began.) I was 8 lbs 6 oz and 20 1/2 inches long at birth. (I am now 5 ft 3 and thankful that my weight is no longer recorded for the world to see.) I got my first tooth at 7 1/2 months. I walked at 10 months 4 days. There is a little piece of hair from my first haircut tied in ribbon inside the book. I remember that at one time there was more of my hair in the ribbon, but I untied the ribbon and lost some of it when I was younger. I never told my mom. I bet she knew and never said anything. But the most precious thing to me in my baby book is to see my full name, Kimberly Kaye Betz, written in my mom's handwriting. It brings tears to my eyes. As I gently run my fingers across my name, I imagine her writing it wtih love forty six years ago. In my heart I can hear her saying, "Happy Birthday to My Baby!"

Yes, it really is the little things that mean the most.

Happy Mother's Day

For the last month my e-mail has been full of reminders from FTD that Mother's Day was coming. As if I would forget. Each e-mail seemed like a little stab in the heart...a reminder that today would be my first Mother's Day without my mom. If I could send flowers to Heaven, I'd gladly pay the delivery fee, but I don't think even FTD delivers there. Finally it hit me that I would not be the only person missing their mom today. So today in my church, there is a bouquet of pink flowers on display in honor of all those moms who are no longer with us here on earth, but who will forever be in our hearts.

I will also be reading my tribute to my mom in the church services today. I wrote it in the days right after Mother died. I shared it with one of my pastors last summer and he asked me then if I'd read it on Mother's Day. Even though I don't like to speak in front of others, I said I would do it to honor my mom. Last summer, May seemed like a long ways off. Funny how fast it came around. Last night I had a trial run at the Saturday night service. It went pretty good. Today's services are likely to have more people attending, but I know my mom will be with me, so I will get through it. The only problem is that I have a cold and I don't have much of a voice this morning. Hopefully it will return by the time of the church services. If not, both pastors have volunteered to read the tribute for me. But as you read the last line, you will have to agree that it would be kind of funny to hear a grown man read it out loud. Many thanks to Pastor Morrie and Pastor Tim for giving me this opportunity to honor my mom this weekend.

Happy Mother's Day in Heaven Mother!

The Woman Who Never Did A Lot

In loving memory of Maxine Betz 2/29/1924-6/19/2011

Written by Kim (Betz) Seeger

This picture of Mother will be with me when I do my reading.

There once was an elderly woman who looked back at her life and said she never did a lot. She wasn’t complaining. It was just her way of saying that she had never traveled to far off places, never held a high ranking job, never found a cure for any diseases, never really made a difference in the world.

This same woman traveled miles walking the floor with fussy babies in her arms. She stayed up half the night sewing Christmas dresses and flannel shirts for her family. She changed countless diapers, none of them disposable. She held tiny hands as her children took their first steps. The same woman was sure to cook favorite meals on her children’s birthdays. Homemade birthday cakes rounded out those meals. She baked hundreds of loaves of homemade bread and her coffee cakes and cinnamon rolls were always on hand. She let each of her children have their own piece of dough to make their own special treat. Thousands of cookies were made with her loving hands. She always made sure that no one went without enough food. Countless loads of laundry were done through the years. This woman never complained about the long hours of her job. She laughed and cried with her children. She celebrated their accomplishments and comforted them through their heartaches. She cherished her grandchildren and great grandchildren. She made sure there were always plenty of treats on hand for their visits.

She loved her husband with all her heart. She truly believed he was her better half. She nursed him back to health after illnesses and surgeries, always thanking God for their days together. This woman sat with her husband and showered him with love in his final days. Then she gave him back to God and dreamed of the day they’d be together again.

This woman never felt sorry for herself. Instead she took care of everyone else. She offered a smile to all she met, sometimes striking up conversations with strangers who turned into life long friends. She preached God’s Word wherever she went, not by banging on her Bible, but by putting others before herself and by showering compassion, humor and love on everyone. In talking with her, people quickly learned that faith, family and friends were the most important things in her life.

This woman underestimated herself. While she may not have traveled the globe, her prayers for family and friends traveled to Heaven daily. She may never have cured any diseases, but she cured many boo-boos and broken hearts with just a hug and a kiss. As for never holding a high ranking job, nothing could be farther from the truth. She held the most prestigious of jobs: Wife and Mother. And she excelled at both. And that part about never making a difference in the world? She made all the difference to those who knew her.

I am honored to have called this special woman Mother. Though I am now grown and have a family of my own, I have often said that I still haven’t decided what I want to be when I grow up. Mother, I want you to know that I have finally decided: I want to be a woman who never did a lot.

In Heaven There Is No Beer

I was thinking back to when my mom was in hospice. A night or so before my mom died, my brother- in-law, Steve smuggled some beer into my mom’s room. It wasn’t for her, but for those of us keeping vigil. We had a bucket of ice that we put the bottles on. I remember worrying that as the ice melted and shifted and made noise, we’d be busted. Took me right back to my college days. At one point one of the nurses came in while we were enjoying a beer. She just chuckled and said it didn’t bother her any. She went on to tell us that in hospice, if a patient requests alcohol, they try to accommodate them. We joked with her that in that case, Mother wanted a keg in the room. We all laughed about it, because Mother was never one to drink. She hated the taste of alcohol. I think the most she ever consumed at one time was probably a sip of communion wine. My dad wasn’t a drinker either. He would have one can of beer (or as he got older, O’douls) with supper each night, but that was it. So, if there truly is no beer in Heaven, I know that is not a problem for Mother and Daddy.

The thing I sometimes wonder about is when people say there is no marriage in Heaven. I certainly don’t claim to be a biblical scholar and won’t try to quote or interpret what the Bible says on the matter.  I can handle that no one gets married once they are in Heaven, but what about the marriages that took place on earth. Are they no longer valid in Heaven? When I think of my mom and dad in Heaven, I still picture them together as husband and wife. It is painful for me to think of them any other way. But then I think about people who have been married more than once. If there is still marriage in Heaven, which spouse will they be married to once they got to Heaven? Now if an earthly marriage ends in divorce, surely the two won't be married in Heaven. But what if a spouse dies and the surviving spouse remarries? What happens when they all get to Heaven? Is this why marriage vows say “Until death do us part”? I try not to think too much on the subject or it starts to feel like I’m losing my mind.

I remember my mom talking about how there is no time in Heaven.  She said that when she thought too much about that, it could drive her crazy. I believe there is a reason for why these things make us feel this way. It’s simple really: We are human. As humans, we can only comprehend human things. Time and marriage are human ways. So are fear, pain and anger. Things in Heaven are spiritual. As humans, we do not have a full understanding of spiritual ways. We can’t comprehend an existence without time, pain, anger, eating, drinking, or marriage.

After Daddy died, I had a hard time when I read different bible verses. Some seemed to indicate that when we die, we immediately go to Heaven. Some seemed to say that we remain in the grave until Judgement Day. Some seemed to say we were judged immediately upon death. I asked my pastor about this as it was really bothering me. Pastor Tim gave me some materials from a class he had previously done on death. It included some of the verses I had read and others as well. But what helped me the most was what he told me. First, he said that even though he’s a pastor and has studied the bible, he doesn’t have all the answers. In other words, he’s human too.  But he said that the important thing to remember is that God does everything in love. We are human and can’t always understand His ways. But if we have faith, we can be assured that whatever God has planned for us after this life will be wonderful. It is so beautiful and spectacular that our human minds cannot comprehend it.  But when we are in Heaven and have full spiritual knowledge, it will all make perfect sense. So our human wonderings about time, marriage or anything else in Heaven should not weigh us down. Rather we should have faith and trust that whatever God has in store for us in Heaven is more wonderful than our wildest dreams. I think I can live with that.

**Pastor Tim, if you happen to read this, I hope I did ok in relaying what you told me. My human mind doesn’t have a perfect memory. But I know your words helped me to feel at peace and know that God has our best interest at heart. I hope that what I wrote can help others to feel that as well.

Finding My Parents...In My Kids



My only grandparent that I ever met, was my Grandma Betz and she died just before I turned 3. I only have a very vague memory of her reading books to me and my brother, Mike. One of my greatest wishes for my own kids was for them to be able to get to know their grandparents and be able to remember them. I feel so blessed that my wish came true.



We talk about my parents a lot in our house. One of us will say something and it will remind of us something Grandpa or Grandma used to do.  I also frequently hear myself saying something and remember my mom saying the exact words to me when I was a kid. A few short years ago, that would have made me cringe. Now it can brighten my whole day. I already see traits in each of our kids that obviously come from either Eric or I. Some we're proud to take credit for. Others, not so much.



Ms. Dani and Mr. Colin with their
Church School class

I absolutely love it when I see little bits of my parents in my kids. Dani has a love for kids that my mom had. And kids are drawn to her. Our little neighbor boy who is almost 2 adores her as she does him. My mom taught Sunday School way back when she was a

Maxine and her Sunday School class

young woman. This year, Dani also started teaching Church School to 4 year olds. Those Tuesday nights at church were the highlight of each week for her. No matter what kind of a day she had at school, those kids made her smile and laugh and brought her joy. And she always came up with fabulous ideas to teach the kids the church lesson in a way that 4 year olds could relate to. She had me made her a stick donkey for Jesus (Pastor Morrie) to ride in on for the lesson about Palm Sunday. The kids waved artificial palm branches as he went by. She built a small cross that she took to one lesson and let the  kids carry it on their back while wearing a crown of thorns (a small grapevine wreath that we found at JoAnn). Another time, she washed the childrens feet to show how Jesus washed the disciples feet. She told me that when she got to one little girl's feet, they were covered in mud. Dani never missed a beat. She held up the girl's feet and told the class that was what the disciples feet really looked like when Jesus washed them.



When she showed me the cross she'd made, I instantly thought of my dad. He loved to do carpentry work. I have a couple crosses hanging on our walls that he made. He would have been so proud of Dani for making that cross. He also would have loved to see her teaching little kids about God. He had a strong faith and so does Danielle.

 My mom would love to hear the stories about Church School from Danielle. She loved kids and would have been impressed with the creative ways Dani taught the kids about God. It just touches my heart to think Dani is doing something my mom did all those years ago.

Evan has my dad's tender heart. I think it is a good thing for men to shed a tear every now and then. My dad did on more than one occasion. When Evan was younger, he'd cry during Disney movies. Before both my parents funerals, my sister had put boxes of kleenex in the pews where family would sit. During my mom's funeral, Evan used kleenex after kleenex to wipe his tears. I admit, I actually chuckled when he pulled the last kleenex out of the box. He literally went through an entire box of kleenex at her funeral. I tell Evan that a tender heart is a good quality to have.

My mom and dad both loved that Evan enjoyed going to the farm. At the farm, Evan literally gets up at 5:30 am to help with the milking, helps my sister with barn chores, cleans calf pens and collapses into bed at night. He definitely got that from my dad. I avoid going in the barn at all costs.



Evan making chocolate chip scones



From my mom, Evan has inherited a love of baking. My grandpa owned a bakery for years and I figure that was where my mom got her love of baking. Evan will make muffins or cinnamon rolls or caramel rolls for breakfast lots of mornings. His favorite treat of all is Scotcheroos...especially when his aunt Jo makes them. They were one of my mom's favorites as well. When we had a cookbook made in honor of my mom at Christmast time, Evan was very excited to see the recipes to all his favorite treats. I tell Evan that a love of baking is also a wonderful trait to have. He should make a great husband some day. What woman wouldn't want a sensitive man who can bake?



Lauren definitely inherited my mom's love of visiting. She likes to tell every last detail of a story. Her and Grandma loved to sit and talk with each other. They had a special bond that really deepened after my dad died. She also wants to comfort others who are hurting, much like both of parents did. When Eric had to tell our kids that Grandma had died, he said he had tears in his eyes, and Lauren told him it would be ok. After my mom's funeral when we went to the cemetery, Lauren cuddled up with Jo and patted Jo's back to comfort her. Several months after my dad died, Lauren had a classmate whose grandma died. Lauren was only 7 at the time, but she drew her friend a picture. In the picture, my dad was welcoming Lauren's friend's grandma into Heaven. I made a copy of it for my mom and she loved it. I know my dad would have been very touched by it as well. I also recently found a picture Lauren had drawn of an angel that said, I Am Free. She has a faith that I'm not sure she even realizes she has. Lots happened with her after my dad died. She had a very hard time coping with his death. But I think working through that really helped her learn about God. She was telling me one day that there is a kid in her class who told her they don't believe it God. She said, "Really? Haven't you ever heard of the book Heaven Is For Real?"

Lauren's Angel Picture

My parents loved their grandkids. Even though my mom and dad are no longer here, they live on in my kids. They are never far from us. Evan told me one day that sometimes he still feels like he's getting a hug from Grandma...all the way from Heaven.





A Glimpse of the Cross

Holy Trinity Catholic Church
I was only able to see
the red "cap" and cross
from the hospital room.

On the morning on June 14, 2011, I drove down to LaCrosse intending to spend 2 days with Mother in the hospital and then head home for a busy weekend. Eric would be playing an annual golf tournament with his dad in Rochester and Dani was to be leaving on a church mission trip on the 19th. When I last saw my mom the 11th, she was doing ok. We knew she had bone cancer, but she had asked not to know the prognosis. I had asked the doctor privately and he had told me "weeks rather than months". I'd been shocked by the thought that she only had weeks left, but still was confident that we had that much time. And yet I vividly recall that as I drove into the hospital parking lot that Tuesday, a thought went through my mind and I wondered if Mother would still be alive when I got back into the van to drive home again. (I ended up staying longer than initially planned, and Mother was no longer alive when I drove home again.)

When I got to her hospital room (she'd been moved to a different room since I last saw her) I immediately saw a big change in her. She was not nearly as alert and no longer wanted any food or drink. Jo went home for a much needed rest and I settled in a bit. I met privately with the doctor again for an update. He now told me his feeling was that she had "days rather than weeks" to live. I was devastated. I spent a lot of time on the phone with Eric and my siblings. Jo never got her much needed rest. She was back at the hospital in a short time. It would be the first of several nights I would spend at the hospital.

I remember the next morning when I woke up (if I really slept at all). I pulled open the curtains in the room to let a little light in. I looked out at the bluffs and was in awe of their beauty. And then I saw it. Above the trees, there hovered a cross. I knew it was attached to a church steeple some where in the city, but from where I stood, it looked like it was just hovering over the trees. It felt like God had placed it there for me to see and it reminded me that He was always with us, even in our darkest hour. While I was devastated at the impending loss of my mom, I also felt peace knowing that when she left us, she would be in Heaven with Jesus, thanks to the cross.

I went to the window to view that cross several times as we "walked the valley of the shadow of death" with Mother over the next few days. It was a beautiful and comforting sight. It was months later when I learned through  a wonderful nurse practioner (who happens to be from Caledonia) at Gundersen Lutheran that the cross is atop Holy Trinity Catholic Church in LaCrosse.

As I continue to travel down this road called Grief, I pass through memories of smiles and laughter, as well as endless miles of tears. But always, I remember the cross I saw from that window and the peace it brought me. And I am reminded that it is a peace that only the cross can bring.

Ordinary People Make Extraordinary Friends

There are some people who make lasting impressions on us without ever trying to. To the casual observer, they are just ordinary people. But to those whose lives they touch, they are much more than that. They are signs of what is right in the world. They are also a reminder that every stranger we meet has the potential to become a life long friend.

My parents met some wonderful people in their lifetime. There are two who stand out in my mind that made lasting impressions. I am sure there are more, but these are two that I heard about for years, but didn't meet until the deaths of my parents.

The first is a man named Curt. He lives in Waseca and showed up at the farm one day years ago, wanting to know if he could hunt on some of my dad's land. My dad loved hunting in his younger years, so I imagine that shared love of hunting made for an immediate friendship between Curt and Daddy. Curt had brought some of his kids along to hunt with him. My mom and Curt's daughter, Jenni, really hit it off. It seemed that every time I was at the farm, I'd hear about how Curt had been down hunting and had stopped to visit. I always heard what a nice man he was and how he had the nicest family. I heard about Jenni and that her baby had some health issues, but was going to be ok. There were always stories of Curt bearing gifts when he came to hunt. For all the years I heard about Curt, I never had met him.

On the morning of my dad's funeral, at the visitation, I suddenly saw a man I'd never seen before, kneeling on the floor in front of my mom's wheelchair talking to her. I wasn't standing close enough to hear the conversation, but later Mother told me that the man asked her if she knew who he was and she said no (although she knew the voice sounded familiar). Then the man told her that she probably didn't recognize him since he was dressed up rather than in the hunting clothes she was used to seeing him wear. That was when my mom realized it was Curt. She was so touched that he came to my dad's funeral. The only contact they'd ever had was the couple times a year when Curt would stop into the farm house and visit when down hunting and yet here he was at my dad's funeral. We were all very touched and several of us sent him thank you's. I wondered later what his wife must have thought about him getting all those thank you's from us.  I exchanged some e-mails with Curt and we became friends on facebook. I remember him telling me once that even when my dad was getting to the end of his life and couldn't communicate very well, he still had a twinkle his eye. Yup, Curt knew my dad pretty well!

I let Curt know when my mom passed away last year. He sent his condolences and told me he was scheduled to work the day of her funeral. I understood, but wished he could be there. Just before her funeral was to start, in walked Curt. We were all as touched that day as my mom had been 2 years earlier when he came to my dad's funeral. And this time Curt brought his wife, Deb along. She had never met our family before. Maybe she wanted to see who all these crazy women were that sent her husband all those thank you's a couple years earlier! Deb is a sweetheart as well. I know my parents would have loved her too. Once again, Curt (and Deb) brought a gift. It was a flowering crab tree to plant on the farm in honor of my parents. He wrote a very touching note about how when the tree bloomed each spring we would be reminded of Mother and Daddy's vibrant lives. The tree is now planted in the front yard at the farm. My sister, Linda, said that the tree bloomed in a beautiful pink this spring. Pink was Mother's favorite color, and those blossomes made Linda think of her every time she looked at the tree. She said she knew that Mother and Daddy were looking down from Heaven and smiling. The tree has a very special story to go with it, just like the oak tree that once stood in that same front yard.

Last week, I sent Curt a note asking if he would mind if I wrote about him in my blog. I asked him how he ever ended up going to my parents farm and meeting them. His answer made me chuckle and think of my mom. It was a long, detailed answer about how he started hunting near Caledonia years ago and how they hunted on other people's property. Eventually, land changed hands and one thing led to another and they found that my dad owned land near where they had previously hunted. So they stopped to ask if they could hunt his land. The whole story, complete with names of whose property they used to hunt on and how it all came to be, completely made me think of my mom's stories. I blogged last week about how she'd start a story with you know "so and so" and if I said no then she'd go on and on until finally I'd recognize the name of someone's brother's uncle's cousin's grandfather. No wonder my mom loved Curt...he spoke her language and could follow her stories! In our occasional e-mails, Curt and I have agreed that we had similar upbringings and that is probably why there was a connection when he met my parents. He told me that my parents were two of the most genuine, caring people that he ever had the privilege of knowing and that they treated him like family. Curt, I can honestly tell you that my parents thought just as highly of you and your family.

There was another person I heard about from my mom over the years. This friendship boggled my mind even more than the one my parents had with Curt.

When my mom and dad would go shopping in LaCrosse or have doctors appointments there, they liked to stop at Wendy's and grab a bite to eat. For years I heard about "Bev from Wendy's". She apparently was the manager there and from what my mom said, she was "such a nice lady". I couldn't figure out how you go into a fast food restaurant once every few months and come out knowing the manager and exchanging Christmas cards with her.

I had never met Bev. When my mom was in hospice, my sister Jo told me that she had called Bev to let her know about my mom's health. Even then I thought it was kind of weird, but Jo knew Bev so who was I to question it? Jo said that Bev was devastated to hear about Mother, and wanted to visit her, but was going to be out of town that weekend. She told Jo that she would call after the weekend and stop by. My mom passed away before the weekend was over. Bev asked if it would be ok for her to come to my mom's visitation. Of course, Jo told her yes. Finally I was going to meet this woman who had made such an impression on Mother. The minute I met her, I knew why my mom loved her. She was sweet and kind and loved to visit. She is the type of person you are just drawn to. She is down to earth and loving and has a strong faith. She was in tears over my mom's death. It was obvious that not only did my mom love Bev, but Bev loved my mom as well.

She told us that what really made an impression on her about Mother and Daddy was when they came into Wendy's and ordered food, they'd always sit in their booth and say a quiet prayer before eating. Bev talked about what a sweet couple my parents were and how they'd always sit at the same table just inside the door because it was hard for them to get around. I remember my mom saying how if it had been a while since they'd been into Wendy's, Bev would greet them when they came through the door and say she'd been worried about them because she hadn't seen them in so long. At other times, she insisted on buying their meal for them.

Not long after my mom's death, we learned that Bev had put a little sign up at my parents usual table at Wendy's in honor of them. I know how touched Mother and Daddy would be and I can just hear my mom saying,  "We weren't that special to deserve something like that."

Never underestimate how big of an impression the smallest of your actions can have on another person.