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Mrs. Dunwoody’s Excellent Instructions for Homekeeping

Wednesday, May 20th, 2009 | Building Self-Confidence, Friends, Healing after Loss, Service, The Healing Power of Service, Womanly Arts | 1 Comment

When I saw that title on my daughter’s bookshelf, I was instantly intrigued. I have always been drawn to books about homemaking, housekeeping, and creating beauty at home. Those with an old-fashioned bent  are my favorites – I think in our fast-paced world “making a home” has lost some of the charm it once held in years past. I am reminded of that charm each time I visit the home of one of my aunts. Nearing her eightieth birthday, she still loves to practice the disappearing art of hospitality.

When I arrive at her door, she welcomes me with open arms, and invites me to sit on her couch. We visit; she wants to know all about what I’m doing, and to hear about each of the children, and then she invariably leads me into the kitchen where she has something delectable waiting to share with me. Lately, she sits and watches as I eat, instead of joining me. “My waistline, you know,” she says, with a twinkle in her eye.

She has had her share of disappointment and sorrow in her life. She lost a son to cancer, an extremely difficult trial for her.

But through her disappointments, through all the difficulties life has brought her way, she has remained giving and generous, always ready to extend an invitation to ‘come visit.’

Perhaps she knows something we all could learn from. Perhaps she finds healing and comfort in creating a place of peace, and in sharing it. Perhaps the chance to focus on and serve another lifts her heart and, for a few moments, her sorrow is replaced with the joy that comes from lifting another soul.

I believe that is true. I believe there is healing in making our homes places where those who enter (including ourselves) can feel peace. I believe as we find ways to increase our enjoyment in doing so, we will feel more fulfilled, and we will discover a desire to reach out and share that peace with others.

Homemaking (or “Homekeeping” as author Miriam Lukken calls it) is one way we express our love for and serve those who share or visit our homes. Maybe Mrs. Dunwoody’s Excellent Instructions and other similar books can remind us of that scriptural admonition, “when ye are in the service of your fellow men, ye are only in the service of your God.”

And maybe then we will be reminded, once again, that the surest way to peace and healing and happiness in this life is through serving others.

Another Widow

Thursday, May 14th, 2009 | Friends, Grieving, Healing after Loss | No Comments

Lonely days; nights filled with sorrow.

A dull ache in the heart that never seems to ease.

“If only…” thoughts playing repeatedly in the mind, haunting the memory and threatening to destroy the rare moments of peace.

I remember those days, early in my grief. Whenever I hear of another woman losing her husband, I can’t help but offer a prayer I know cannot truly be answered: “Oh, please spare her those painful days.”

I heard a few days ago that another dear friend lost her husband in a terrible accident. The moment I heard, I thought, “Oh, no. Not her.”

She is generous; she is patient, she is soft-spoken and kind. She is ever thinking of others, and doing things for those around her is what brings her the greatest joy. She loves God, and the way she lives her life makes that very evident.

She is everything good. She has raised a beautiful family; created a home that is welcoming and filled with beauty; grown a garden that evokes a feeling of peace and solitude – a place to find oneness with the Creator.

Over the years as we’ve raised our families, whenever we’ve visited, she has expressed love and concerns for her children, hoping and praying that they will each find the greatest happiness possible in life. As we spoke of husbands, her love for her sweetheart was always evident, and I marveled that two so seemingly perfect people had found each other and had been blessed with such a loving family.

Family has been the motivating factor in all she has done. In the past few years, now with an ‘empty nest’, she and her husband were getting ready to spend the next years serving their family and an ever-widening circle of friends, together.

Now, together isn’t an option.

The funeral is today, and I am thousands of miles away. I long to be there, to take her in my arms and tell her that I ache for her, and that I will be there in any way that she needs. I want to help, but there is so little I can do.

What can I do?

I can let her know of my love for her. I can tell her I will be praying for her. My children and I know that those prayers have great power. We felt them in the days following my husband’s death.

I can be a listening ear, for whatever she needs to say. I remember there were some things I only dared say to another widow, for fear of being misunderstood, and judged wrongly by one who hadn’t experienced what I was going through.

I can pray to be aware of her needs, and I can offer friendship and companionship when the loneliness becomes unbearable.

And I can remind her that, although she may often feel alone, she is never truly on her own. There is always One she can turn to, who will never leave her comfortless. Widows are among those He is most concerned about, and he tells His people to “honour widows”, and reminds them that “pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this: to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction…”

Another widow. Oh, how I wish I could erase this event from her life. But I cannot.

How I wish I could ease her pain. I cannot do that either. But I know One who can. And I will pray, fervently, that He will.

I love you, dear friend. May you feel Him near you in your time of distress.

-Roslyn

Tags: Add new tag, Death of a loved one, Sudden loss

Goodbye, Grandma

Monday, May 4th, 2009 | Grieving | No Comments

Grandma slipped peacefully from this life into the next as she slept last night.  When I saw the text on my phone this morning, “Call Don”, I knew what must have happened.

It has been a tender week. We heard Monday that she’d had a stroke and wasn’t expected to live many days. I immediately called each of my seven children, and the gathering began. They all wanted to talk to Grandma, to tell her how much she meant to them, and to thank her for the good she had brought into their life.

One daughter living in a nearby state caught a plane that afternoon; another drove hours with her husband to be there; the three living at home came all together; my daughter living on the East Coast, and too far along in her pregnancy to travel, got on her computer and we set up a web-cam session so she could visit with Grandma; and even my son serving a church mission in South America was able to call and talk to her.

That was the last time they were able to visit with her. As the week progressed, she wasn’t able to respond or communicate. She would lie quietly with her eyes closed, less and less a part of this world each day.

Each time I entered the home where she was being cared for, there was a son or daughter, grandson or granddaughter sitting on the couch next to the hospital bed that had been installed in the living room. Most often they were holding her hand or stroking her head, touching her and letting her know she was not alone.

She has been the ideal Grandma. I remember from the very first moment she heard I was expecting our first child, she started making baby quilts and receiving blankets. Whenever we would visit, we’d find her busy, either crocheting the intricate lacy edge on a blanket or bent over the quilt frames set up in her living room, stitch by stitch making something warm and wonderful to welcome our new arrival.

Once the babies began arriving, she began planning outings and events. Trips to the zoo were a favorite, with Grandma bringing homemade cookies to snack on as we herded the children from one exhibit to the next, always with a stroller in tow.

Picnics were another favorite of Grandma’s excursions. Up the canyon or in a park, Grandma always found places that children loved to explore. We’d take our picnic blanket and tablecloth, and she’d bring her big wicker picnic basket and spread a feast to tempt the children away from the swings and slides, if only for just a few minutes!

Christmas Eve dinner at Grandma’s was a tradition that we all loved. Complete with a visit from Santa with a huge bag of wrapped gifts, that is a memory full of warmth and light and happiness that we will forever cherish.

Museums, festivals, nature preserves; scenic drives and waterfalls, historical sites and community plays, Grandma found a way to share all of them with her grandchildren. And in sharing all of that, what she shared most, and what the children remember most, is her love.

They knew Grandma loved them. They loved going to Grandma’s. If ever there was a weekend with nothing planned at home, the common cry was, “Let’s go to Grandma’s!” Grandma had a toy box filled with treasures in her front closet, and Grandma had a cracker cupboard right at the children’s height. Grandma had a dog that loved to play fetch, and a big back yard with a huge old swing-set, and balls to throw and catch. And on the very best days, Grandma had all the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies, and the children would get to help her bake a batch and eat them with ice-cold milk from Grandma’s fridge.

Grandma. That word will always hold a special meaning to me because I watched her; and to Mom, it meant giving, and sacrifice, and concern, and, most of all, love.

I love you, Mom! I will miss you. And I will try hard to live the way you showed me to, so when it is my turn to leave this life, I can be with you once again.

Tags: Death of a loved one, Family