Showing posts with label home. Show all posts
Showing posts with label home. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Memories of My Aunt Grace

My Aunt Grace passed away yesterday. And I am sad.
My husband and I are on vacation. We are in a historical place, and yesterday we had been seeing the sites. We were sitting on a bench to rest for a few minutes, watching the horse carriages going back and forth, and absolutely enjoying ourselves. And then my phone rang.
When I heard the news, I could not speak. I listened about what happened, how it happened, and the outcome. I could hear my mother sobbing in the background. And then I cried, briefly, but with all my heart.
I love my Aunt Grace. Always have, always will. When I was small and lived in Ohio, every summer Daddy would drive us to New Jersey, where my mother's family lived. We would spend several weeks there, and sometimes I got to stay for the summer.  But always, after a 12 to 13 hour drive, within 15 minutes my Aunt Grace had me in her car, going...somewhere!

Life was an adventure to me with her. She took me to meet family I had never even heard of. And friends that I didn't know she had. I came to know all the folks she worked with at the knitting mill, and even knew their kids.

She took me horseback riding often. She didn't ride, but she watched proudly as I rode around and around, in my element, loving it the whole while. She never complained about the time, and I am sure there were many times she paid extra just to let me ride longer.

She took me to the store, shopping, just riding around. I was introduced to flea markets and yard sales. She took me to Fort Dix, where my grandfather had worked, so often I knew my way around. And she would take me to McGuire Air Force Base, right next to Fort Dix, to watch the planes taking off and landing. I loved it!

Aunt Grace had been adopted by my grandma and grandpa because it seemed Grandma could not bear a baby who could survive. So, while living in Akron, Ohio, they adopted a 3 year old girl, and named her Grace Lee. My Aunt Grace.

She helped Grandma raise 3 other children who came along naturally. God was blessing them with biological children. My mom was the first, when Aunt Grace was 12, then my Uncle Darrell, and finally Aunt Pat, who passed away in 1994, a year after Grandma.

But Aunt Grace, while slow, was raised by my grandma and kept under her thumb. It was not done in a mean spirit, but in the vein of protecting her from the outsiders, from those who may hurt her, or cause harm in some way. So Grace learned to copy grandma in her lifestyle. Her friends were approved by Grandma, or not, and her activities were limited to what Grandma though appropriate.
She did not even learn to drive until it became a necessity. My grandpa had a massive stroke while at work on Fort Dix. He was a fireman. He never recovered, and passed away 7 years later, when I was 15. Grandma took care of him, did what she could to help him, and was faithful and strong that whole time. That strength took root in Aunt Grace as well. When he first fell ill, she went and learned how to drive. It became her responsibility to transport everyone in the family. She eventually saved enough money from her job to buy her first car. And that car became her ticket to adventure, and freedom.

Aunt Grace was never home. She wasn't doing anything wrong, she was just visiting everybody she knew, or taking someone somewhere, or cleaning some one's house. She was busy, and she was always willing to help someone else. She had some difficulties because, as I said, she was slow. She did not comprehend some things. It was like one part of her cognition had been cut off.

But she did know goodness, kindness, and how to laugh. She was so much fun. She showered me and the other grand kids to come with love, gifts, fun. She was life itself, and I always looked forward to spending time with her.

In later years, after she and Grandma had moved to Ohio to live close to us, where I also lived at the time, she became pretty independent. In this I mean, she made new friends, without Grandma's consent. She went where she pleased, and did what she wanted with her own money. She learned how to write a check and balance her own checkbook. Yes, Aunt Grace had come of age, although she was well in her sixties by that time.

So, for the last few years, she had given up a lot of that independence. She gave up her right to drive. She turned over most of her finances to my mom and stepfather. She made her own funeral arrangements with a local funeral home, which shocked my mom greatly when she found out. But it turned out that she just did not want to be a burden, any more than she needed to be, to those she loved, and who loved her. My Aunt Grace.

For the past year she has lived in two nursing homes. She did well until last November, when she moved from one to the other. I'm not saying that is why she passed. She was 92 after all. But something changed for her, in that soon after she moved, she started fading away. Soon, the woman who was always talking, asking questions, telling cute jokes, suddenly spoke very little, and here lately not at all. She knew us when she saw us, smiled and held our hands. But she never spoke again once she stopped. And then on Sunday night, she was taken to the hospital, put on life support, and then simply stopped living. My Aunt Grace.

There is now a void where joy had been. But that joy will come back, as already I am laughing in my mind and heart, and even with a little chuckle here and there, at the funny things she would say and do. Yes, I will miss her greatly, but my love for her will never stop. And one day I will see her again. I am confidant of this fact. Life doesn't stop with the end of the body's life. It is only beginning. And Aunt Grace is now healthy and happy, and simply the best she has ever been, or could hope to be. She is with Jesus!

Blessings!

'Yes, we are good courage, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord.'
2 Corinthians 5:8 (ESV)

Friday, September 7, 2012

The Wanderderlust Within

I love being an American, and living in this country. There is so much about it that I love that I cannot even begin to share.

Maybe one of the things I like best is that I don't have to drive too far to find interesting things to do and see. I can experience new places and people, different cultures within mine, different terrains, and different languages even, if I so wish. And all without having to carry my passport with me!

I just love to get in the car, or the plane, and go. Love to come home, but boy do I love to go! I have a yearning deep in my heart to see, do, hear and experience that which I either have never experienced, or that which I have and enjoy so much that I gotta do it again. Seems like I am never satisfied to just stay in one place for very long.

Don't get me wrong. I love my home, and the city and state that I live in. When my hubby and I moved south nearly 15 years ago, I knew quickly that we had landed in the right place. It has brought me much joy. We are living right where we are supposed to be living, by the grace of God, and I cannot imagine living anywhere else...well, at least not right now! But maybe someday...

My grandchildren have alot to do with this travel bug I have within me. When they come to visit, we get in the car and go. We sometime go to the mountains and experience the culture, music, and lovely views. Other times we head to the beach, where we have all developed a love of the ocean, boats, and all the sights and sounds that accompany them.

Most of the time we blend in lots of historical places to see. I love history, and so do my grandkids. For this I am really thankful! There is something about standing in a building that is centuries old that is quite surreal.

But my travels are not limited to America, although there is still so much I wish to see. I have ventured out, with my passport, to Ecuador several years ago, on a mission trip. I loved it! Not only did I participate in ministry there, I was able to bond with several of the teenagers who came to the camp, and am still in touch with them. I have a place in my heart that belongs to Ecuador, the country, the people. It is a beautiful place.

Then, most recently, I was blessed to be able to travel to Germany to see my son and his family prior to his deployment to Afghanistan. I had never flown across the 'pond' before. But I did it, and I had a wonderful time. And when I say I stood in buildings and plaza's that are centuries old, wow! They really are! Older than anything here in America!

But at the end of each excursion is home. And home is where my heart is. The Wanderlust is not going away anytime soon. I am grateful. I learn something valuable with every trip. Mostly, I have learned that people are the same, they have the same emotions and needs as everyone else. They may live in a different country, state, city, but we all share the bond of the human race. And we can all touch one another, and make a difference in lives. I still remember the smile of a couple with a dog on one of the market places in Germany. They posed for a picture for me. We did not speak the same language, yet we communicated. They were kind. I was kind back.

Wanderlust is a great thing. As long as it is not a continual state of mind and body, and we don't lose our need and want for our homes and families, it is a true blessing of God.

Now, where shall I go next....?

Sunday, July 3, 2011

Going Home

I love going home. I was born and raised in Ohio, and never had any real reason to leave it. Always loved it, despite my wanderlust!

You see, I love new adventures. Not jumping out of perfectly good airplanes, and not riding upside down on a speeding roller coaster. No, more in the nature of travel and sightseeing kind of adventure is what I seek. New experiences and new people are my cup of tea.

But going home, while somewhat adventureful in and of itself, is a sweet thing, a thing of familiar faces and places, a mixture of the old and the new. It is satisfying to my soul to reintroduce myself to my roots.

My town has changed much since I moved away from it 18 years ago. Many parts of town look nothing like I remember. Landmark buildings are gone, or have had their historical charm remodeled out of them. But then I can drive down a street in my old neighborhood and see the same houses I knew, even trees I have climbed, and that is when I know I am home. The familiar feelings of safety and peace return.

Our walk with God is much like that. We struggle through hard times, where we feel like we are in a strange and barren land. We are anxious and can't see the light at the end of the tunnel. We have the sense that God has forgotten us in the midst of our trials, and nothing about that place is familiar.

But then something happens, and we turn a corner. There it is, that light we were looking for. And when we see the landmarks, the stones, that is when we recall the things God has done, how He has never left us alone, or lost, in the wilderness. The places, and the faces, are friendly and familiar, and that sense of safety and peace returns once more.

Who said 'You can't go home again? ' I beg to differ, because I know from experience, there is nothing like going home.

Blessings!