Family, Past Present and Future - Part 1
Within the space of three weeks I experienced my family past, present and future. My mother whose mind is sharp, is still frail enough at 95 that she doesn't live alone. My sister who has been living with her needed to go home to Vermont. I agreed to stay at Mom's for about a week. My mother still lives in the house my dad had remodeled when I was 11. They had left this home when I was about 3 and my brothers were 7 and 9. When my grandfather died and we no longer needed to stay at the farm, my father began working on their house. This home that originally only held him and his wife then needed to meet the the needs of a family of 7. My 2 brothers were now old enough to aid my father as he oversaw the work on his expanding bungalow.
From the time I was 11 until I graduated I lived in the fullfillment of my father's dream. Years went by and it was my mother's mom that needed her attention. Mother did all that was needed to allow my grandmother to remain in her own home as long as she could. Usually someone would spend the night. My mom came to take her to the hospital the night she fell ill. Grandmom insisted on washing up before they left her house. She died about 2 days later.
Many of my grandmother's antique furniture pieces, glassware and assorted other things were carefully incorporated into the house. The sight of some of these things brings to the surface memories of my grandmother, her house and the 2 aunts and one uncle that lived with her for many years. Although I realize how incomplete our memories can be, I have at least snippets of positive memories of them all.
In my father's house food provides a focus for a lot of my memories. There were pot roasts that we usually enjoyed on Sundays. Special meals always took place in the dining room. Mother's fried chicken was also a special treat. Knowing we were all white meat lovers, she would cut the breasts in multiple pieces before she would prepare them for the hot oil. After my grandmother's death, each holiday meal would include her potato rolls now made by my mother who would glaze them with sugar water just as her mother had done. We all knew which seat was ours as we gathered around the large rectangular walnut table. I always sat on one end next to my father and my youngest sister sat next to my mom on the other end. The two sides had plenty of room for my remaining three siblings and any other guests usually from my extended family. We ate from my paternal grandmother's china and my father would carefully oversee its use never being certain that we would take enough care. Lemon cake pie and pound cake were some of the deserts my mother would make. Peach and strawberry ice cream were both expected each summer. Even when we ate in the kitchen, eating as a family was an important way of drawing us together.
On my recent visit at my mom's there was often a need for me to descend into the basement where Mom keeps her freezer. This was my opportunity to pass by 5 pictures frozen in time. (One of those pictures was me.) Five pictures of five teens, 17 or 18 each smiling to some degree as they look forward to their graduations and beyond. I looked back at them seeing no wrinkles and no extra pounds. Although their smiles and youthful skin seemed like a statement of fact, the years have treated them like they do most people and the extra pounds and the wrinkles have come. Each of them have experienced varying degrees of happiness and fullfilment. Until my sister's recent move to my mother's, none of the five of us resided in our home town. Instead we are all spread out over 4 states. If mother needed us, one of us would come. The primary one at the moment is my sister. She offers herself as loving daughter and experienced nurse who knows the foreign language that is used when speaking about prescriptions and medical conditions. When ever anyone comes we bring what we have to offer to this one who has loved and given so much to family and friends.
My generation has been called the sandwich generation. This is a complex sandwich with not three but four generations. Soon we would be spending a week with those of the third and fourth generation. May we have eyes to see how God is working through every layer.
From the time I was 11 until I graduated I lived in the fullfillment of my father's dream. Years went by and it was my mother's mom that needed her attention. Mother did all that was needed to allow my grandmother to remain in her own home as long as she could. Usually someone would spend the night. My mom came to take her to the hospital the night she fell ill. Grandmom insisted on washing up before they left her house. She died about 2 days later.
Many of my grandmother's antique furniture pieces, glassware and assorted other things were carefully incorporated into the house. The sight of some of these things brings to the surface memories of my grandmother, her house and the 2 aunts and one uncle that lived with her for many years. Although I realize how incomplete our memories can be, I have at least snippets of positive memories of them all.
In my father's house food provides a focus for a lot of my memories. There were pot roasts that we usually enjoyed on Sundays. Special meals always took place in the dining room. Mother's fried chicken was also a special treat. Knowing we were all white meat lovers, she would cut the breasts in multiple pieces before she would prepare them for the hot oil. After my grandmother's death, each holiday meal would include her potato rolls now made by my mother who would glaze them with sugar water just as her mother had done. We all knew which seat was ours as we gathered around the large rectangular walnut table. I always sat on one end next to my father and my youngest sister sat next to my mom on the other end. The two sides had plenty of room for my remaining three siblings and any other guests usually from my extended family. We ate from my paternal grandmother's china and my father would carefully oversee its use never being certain that we would take enough care. Lemon cake pie and pound cake were some of the deserts my mother would make. Peach and strawberry ice cream were both expected each summer. Even when we ate in the kitchen, eating as a family was an important way of drawing us together.
On my recent visit at my mom's there was often a need for me to descend into the basement where Mom keeps her freezer. This was my opportunity to pass by 5 pictures frozen in time. (One of those pictures was me.) Five pictures of five teens, 17 or 18 each smiling to some degree as they look forward to their graduations and beyond. I looked back at them seeing no wrinkles and no extra pounds. Although their smiles and youthful skin seemed like a statement of fact, the years have treated them like they do most people and the extra pounds and the wrinkles have come. Each of them have experienced varying degrees of happiness and fullfilment. Until my sister's recent move to my mother's, none of the five of us resided in our home town. Instead we are all spread out over 4 states. If mother needed us, one of us would come. The primary one at the moment is my sister. She offers herself as loving daughter and experienced nurse who knows the foreign language that is used when speaking about prescriptions and medical conditions. When ever anyone comes we bring what we have to offer to this one who has loved and given so much to family and friends.
My generation has been called the sandwich generation. This is a complex sandwich with not three but four generations. Soon we would be spending a week with those of the third and fourth generation. May we have eyes to see how God is working through every layer.
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