She took my little hand in hers and before I knew what was happening we were skipping ... right down the center of a busy mall! She was so happy and free and didn't care that everyone was looking at us. When I think of my sweet Grammie, Suzanne Marie Hagen, memories like this one flood my heart and mind. How can my words give tribute to a true lady and the Grammie that I called: "My Kindred Spirit"?
She used to play for hours with us, and everything was fun of childhood wonder and magic when she was there! The old green shaggy carpet-covered stairs became a railroad car as we went of journeys far into the countryside. The bathtub became a beauty parlor where we were transformed into princesses and Grammie would style the billowy bubbles into gorgeous gowns with puffed sleeves. Because of course every princess needs puffed sleeves when going to a formal ball!
She would read to us on the cozy white couch and the stories of Rapunzel, Hansel and Gretel and the Three Little Kittens came to life with her perfect story-telling voice. On slumber party nights we would snuggle under the sweetest smelling sheets (which she had hung to dry) as she would sing to us songs that will stay in my memory forever: "Sweetest Little Fella", "I've Been Working on the Railroad", "Would you Like to Swing on a Star", and "Sleep Kentucky Babe". I can still see her graceful silhouette in the nursery doorway as she sang "just one more song" until we drifted off to dreamland.
All of us Grandkids used to play for hours in the summer in the little creek that still runs along the back of Grampy and Grammie's house. We would fish for crawdads and pan for gold. More than once I have to admit that I "accidentally" slipped into the water so that I would get an extra bath and Grammie would let me wear one of Grampy's soft white T-shirts. I loved those shirts so much that one Christmas Eve Grammie took one and decorated it with coral lace and little flowers. I wore it as a night shirt and still have it in my hope chest.
Grammie and Grampy's house was the embodiment of Christmas Eve to me. Every year Grammie would be there to open the door in her long shirt and delicate lace top. She always looked like the perfect lady and hostess. Every corner of the house would be decorated: the glowing Christmas tree (that was always perfect to lay under and see the lights), the white angel choir peeking over the brick wall, the many nativity scenes and even the mischievous looking elves behind the tree. We would enjoy a meal of Swedish meatball and shrimp curry with white rice and soft dinner rolls. I can still hear my Grampy saying the blessing in Norwegian. After dinner us kids would scurry around finding sheets and towels to use as costumes for our Christmas skit. Grammie always wanted to sing carols and I can almost see her face with tears glistening on her cheeks as we ended with "Silent Night" every year...
Grammie used to take me on birthday shopping trips (which began because I disliked shoes!) we would shop and Grammie would make me feel so grown up. Over lunch we would talk about anything and everything. She gave me dating advise, and told me stories of when Grampy and her fell in love. We talked about books and the Bible and faith. I'll never forget how she made a grumpy lady at Payless shoes smile and laugh one day. When we went to the car she told me that she tries to never judge people who may be cross or gumpy because you never know what they might be going through. She said that she always tries to make the sad people smile. Every time she heard a siren she would stop and pray for the people involved. She has such intense compassion and kindness.
I was so blessed that my Farmer Boy and I had the privilege of living in her lovely home with her over the past three years. She told me over and over how happy she was that we had each other and she adored my Joshua so much. We spent hours singing hymns and watching Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune with her. Grammie and I sang in the Senior Singers choir, and went everywhere together. I will never regret those three years spent with Grammie. I learned such valuable lessons, and was challenged and inspired by walking by her side while she made this last journey through life on earth.
No matter how "ready" someone is to go to heaven, it just doesn't seem right to say good-bye. No matter how much you want them to be free, you don't stop wanting to hold them for one more moment. Grammie passed into the everlasting arms of her Savior on July 13, 2013. She was 87 years old. Those last 23 hours will be in my mind forever. They were sacred moments.
Even now over a month later I find myself wanting to write her a letter or call her up, I can't get used to her not being with me after spending those three years almost inseparable. I miss laughing with her until we both cried, I miss singing with her "You'll never walk alone" while we got ready for bed, I miss making strong strong coffee for her and watching her take that first sip, I miss baking lemon squares and hearing her joke about eating them all herself, I miss her stories and quotes, I miss watching the birds with her ...
But I know I'll see her again. And maybe, just maybe she'll take my hand in hers and we'll skip together down the streets of Heaven.
Saturday, August 24, 2013
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
A Miracle Baby and God's Redemption
Christmas through the end of February I felt like my heart was being broken beyond repair. For a couple months I had imagined a baby being ours, a baby I tried not to love but couldn't help it. And he wasn't even born yet.
It all started when my dear friend called me one day in the fall and she said: "Sis, don't get too excited about this, but there might be a baby who needs a family." Honestly, my first thought was pain for the birth mother and my heart went out to her knowing she was in a hard situation, and what true sacrificial love she was showing her unborn baby. I didn't even tell my sweet Farmer Boy because it was all quite unreal at that point. But I could not keep my heart from falling in love with this baby boy, imagining him being our son. (oddly I knew he was a boy before anyone had seen an ultrasound) All I could do was pray. I prayed for the birth family, for the baby, for the situation to work out to God's glory, for beauty to come from a hard situation. I prayed for redemption.
Then one day in late December my friend called me back and I was rushing to get out of the house for a trip to a family funeral and she said: "Ok sis, you need to sit down". Then she told me that the birth parents wanted to meet us. I felt like I was going to pass out and I told her that I would get back to her. Then I told my sweet Husband all about the situation as we drove to the funeral, and all weekend I kept thinking how exciting it would be to bring a baby into our lives and introduce him to our families.
We decided that we would make a choice the week of Christmas. I don't know how to explain the decision we came to except that God made it very clear that this wasn't our baby. Then I called my friend and told her that God gave us a clear NO, and she asked if I could help the birth mother find the right family for her baby. My heart screamed: "NO - I can't do this", but my voice said: "ok".
Totally overwhelmed I sat in church that evening and knew I needed help in finding this family, there had been a couple ideas of people I knew who wanted to adopt, but God didn't give me peace. So when the prayer cards were turned in I wrote that there was a baby who needed a family. Later, I found out that the exact same Sunday another prayer card was filled out by an amazing woman and it read: "Baby # 2 Where are you?"
Well, the rest of the story is that I ended up making a phone call to the woman who I felt like I was giving "my" baby to, and got her and the birth mother in touch. This was in January. A couple weeks later the due date (which we thought was in the early summer) ended up being discovered and it was in March. This due date meant that for us we wouldn't have gotten a brand new home study completed in time for the baby's birth. When I think back to this detail, I cannot help but thank God that He protected us - while we might have thought we could adopt in the summer, in March or February it would have been devastating and would have created a lot of stress for the birth mother and the baby. But my new friend has already adopted and was able to complete her home study renewal with about a week to spare before the baby came.
The night he was born I felt numb. But at the same time I was hungry for pictures of the new baby and seeing his new mama's face glowing with pure bliss made me feel like he was in the right arms. Yes, I felt empty, but I also felt such peace.
I met little Alexander (his adoptive parents named him not knowing that our middle name was going to be a form of Alexander), and he was beautiful. The first time I held him I was in the hospital and his mama brought me a blizzard. And as I held him in that hospital bed, I didn't cry - I actually felt extreme joy and peace. It shocked me. I looked at his little face and I knew that God allowed him into my life not to be my baby but to introduce him to his real mama. It was a moment that will stand still in my mind forever. He was a picture of redemption. God took my broken heart and filled it with joy. He took my longing for a baby to call my own, and replaced it with peace. He took women who had no idea each other existed and brought us all together around this little boy all loving him and wanting the best for his life.
Does this mean that my heart doesn't still hurt sometimes when I see this little guy? That when I hold him sometimes I have to stop myself from imagining what it would have been like if he was mine? No, I'm still human. But I am overjoyed that God did what was best and God used me to be part of his miraculous story. God used this baby to bring me some new and wonderful friends - I am overwhelmed at God's mercy and kindness in all of this, and my heart is truly filled with joy.
It all started when my dear friend called me one day in the fall and she said: "Sis, don't get too excited about this, but there might be a baby who needs a family." Honestly, my first thought was pain for the birth mother and my heart went out to her knowing she was in a hard situation, and what true sacrificial love she was showing her unborn baby. I didn't even tell my sweet Farmer Boy because it was all quite unreal at that point. But I could not keep my heart from falling in love with this baby boy, imagining him being our son. (oddly I knew he was a boy before anyone had seen an ultrasound) All I could do was pray. I prayed for the birth family, for the baby, for the situation to work out to God's glory, for beauty to come from a hard situation. I prayed for redemption.
Then one day in late December my friend called me back and I was rushing to get out of the house for a trip to a family funeral and she said: "Ok sis, you need to sit down". Then she told me that the birth parents wanted to meet us. I felt like I was going to pass out and I told her that I would get back to her. Then I told my sweet Husband all about the situation as we drove to the funeral, and all weekend I kept thinking how exciting it would be to bring a baby into our lives and introduce him to our families.
We decided that we would make a choice the week of Christmas. I don't know how to explain the decision we came to except that God made it very clear that this wasn't our baby. Then I called my friend and told her that God gave us a clear NO, and she asked if I could help the birth mother find the right family for her baby. My heart screamed: "NO - I can't do this", but my voice said: "ok".
Totally overwhelmed I sat in church that evening and knew I needed help in finding this family, there had been a couple ideas of people I knew who wanted to adopt, but God didn't give me peace. So when the prayer cards were turned in I wrote that there was a baby who needed a family. Later, I found out that the exact same Sunday another prayer card was filled out by an amazing woman and it read: "Baby # 2 Where are you?"
Well, the rest of the story is that I ended up making a phone call to the woman who I felt like I was giving "my" baby to, and got her and the birth mother in touch. This was in January. A couple weeks later the due date (which we thought was in the early summer) ended up being discovered and it was in March. This due date meant that for us we wouldn't have gotten a brand new home study completed in time for the baby's birth. When I think back to this detail, I cannot help but thank God that He protected us - while we might have thought we could adopt in the summer, in March or February it would have been devastating and would have created a lot of stress for the birth mother and the baby. But my new friend has already adopted and was able to complete her home study renewal with about a week to spare before the baby came.
The night he was born I felt numb. But at the same time I was hungry for pictures of the new baby and seeing his new mama's face glowing with pure bliss made me feel like he was in the right arms. Yes, I felt empty, but I also felt such peace.
I met little Alexander (his adoptive parents named him not knowing that our middle name was going to be a form of Alexander), and he was beautiful. The first time I held him I was in the hospital and his mama brought me a blizzard. And as I held him in that hospital bed, I didn't cry - I actually felt extreme joy and peace. It shocked me. I looked at his little face and I knew that God allowed him into my life not to be my baby but to introduce him to his real mama. It was a moment that will stand still in my mind forever. He was a picture of redemption. God took my broken heart and filled it with joy. He took my longing for a baby to call my own, and replaced it with peace. He took women who had no idea each other existed and brought us all together around this little boy all loving him and wanting the best for his life.
Does this mean that my heart doesn't still hurt sometimes when I see this little guy? That when I hold him sometimes I have to stop myself from imagining what it would have been like if he was mine? No, I'm still human. But I am overjoyed that God did what was best and God used me to be part of his miraculous story. God used this baby to bring me some new and wonderful friends - I am overwhelmed at God's mercy and kindness in all of this, and my heart is truly filled with joy.
Friday, March 29, 2013
Why I Love Good Friday
In our culture talking about sin is not politically correct. Everyone has their own truth, and there are very few if any absolutes. Everyone is told they have choice over everything, and whatever they choose for themselves is cool. Advertisers use sex and money to entice us to buy whatever will make us "happy" at the moment. Long term thinking about actions is often lost in the thrill of "love" or desire for more money, more things, "beauty", and power. I know this may offend some of you, but sin is real and the Bible is not a book up for any interpretation that fits our desires. There is right and there is wrong. And this is offensive. And not one of us lives up to the perfection of doing, thinking and saying what is right 100% of our lives. We ALL sin.
This is why I love Good Friday. Because I know I need a Savior.
I cringe when I think of the sinful thoughts I have at times, when I think of dumb things I did (knowing full well I was sinning) in college, when I know my true motives are not pure, when I am hateful or snap at my husband, when I talk disrespectfully about my fellow man, when I am a glutton, when I don't take care of the body God gave me, when I am jealous ... the list goes on and on. Every single one of us could write a list a mile or twenty long of the ways we have sinned against the Perfect God. And that's where Good Friday comes in.
Jesus, God with flesh on (as Pastor Jonathan would say), willingly died the most horrifically painful death - and He did that to take the punishment for MY sins, or YOUR sins, for the sins of the whole world. Good Friday is a day to remember and be grateful for His sacrifice. When He hung on that cross He not only felt the physical torture, He also felt the weight of all the sins of every person who will ever live. I feel such horrible weight when I have one sin on my shoulders. I cannot imagine what that felt like for the perfect Son of God. And I am so incredibly grateful.
But you know what the best part about Good Friday is? That it doesn't stay Good Friday. Sunday always comes, and with it the celebration of the Risen Savior. Jesus didn't stay in that Good Friday tomb, Easter Sunday came and with it all the hope and joy the world needs. We are freed from our sin! We don't have to carry the weight and punishment with us any longer.
What Jesus did on Good Friday doesn't mean that we should just go and do whatever we feel like. We still live in an imperfect world and sin is still real. In fact, Good Friday should make us want to do what is right, it should make us hate sin all the more. Good Friday should inspire us to live for the One who took our sin on His shoulders to give us the opportunity to have a real and lasting relationship with God.
So, wherever you are on this Friday, take some time to sit in the awe and wonder of the Savior. He died so that we might live.
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