"Play, vigorous healthful play, is, in its turn, fully as important as lessons, as regards both bodily health and brain-power." -Charlotte Mason
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Two weekends ago Pete and I went to Galena, Illinois for a little getaway. I don't leave the kids very often and when I do, I usually cry at some point. Well, I was proud of myself the morning we were packing up to go home when I realized I hadn't cried the whole time. I know, it was only 2 nights so you may be thinking I'm crazy. But this home and these people are my world so going away usually leads to guilt. Guilt because I may not be available when they need me, because I am not there to protect them, and because I'm expecting someone else to care for them. But this time was different. That's probably because they're getting older and capable of helping and because I was totally confident in the young couple and their baby who stayed with them. So away we went and it was a refreshing time in a beautiful place. Here are a handful of pictures from the weekend.
When you grow up moving around, changing home often, the things and people that are consistent hold deep meaning. When every few years you are transitioning to a new place with new people, attempting to make new friends, the things that remain in your life are like anchors. That's what their house was to me. Opa and Oma's house was a place that meant sameness to my little girl life. No matter where we lived, we always went back there. For Christmas, for summer time fun with cousins. As we got closer to their house and the highway gave way to the sweet neigborhood I still love to be in, I was giddy. In winter I enjoyed hours of sledding and outdoor exploring with my close in age uncle, Tim. In summer, family potlucks at the park, bike rides and walks with Opa and Oma. At night I would lie awake in an upstairs bedroom unable to sleep for the haunting sounds of nearby trains, but comforted by the steady stream of conversation of my parents, aunts, uncles and Opa and Oma coming from the living room. Their deep theological discussions always mixed with their uproarious laughter. I remember backing out of that driveway to go "home" to wherever we lived at the time so many times over the years, but I always knew I'd be back. In my early twenties I lived with Opa and Oma for about a year while I went to beauty school and lived for the weekend when Pete would visit from school. I spent so much time sitting on the porch talking with Opa and Oma. There is so much they taught me just by taking the time to include me in their lives. Opa has been gone now for 12 years. I can still hear his laughter, the sound of his voice in my mind. Oma died 2 weeks ago today and while I'm so thankful for the time I had with her- that I knew my grandmother for nearly 40 years! - I still get sad thinking about the things that I didn't learn or ask her about. Today I was reading a book to the kids and there was a really beautiful description of lemon meringue pie. And I just wanted to put the book down and cry. Oma made the most delicious lemon meringue pie. And I never asked her to teach me. She was brilliant in the kitchen, making everything seem so effortless. She made homemade bread that was amazing. She thought nothing of letting a crew of grand kids make and decorate cut out cookies with her.
I still can't really believe she's gone. The thought of her house without her in it is really hard for me to handle. I hope and pray that someone in the family buys that house so I can maybe still visit. So I can still sit on that porch and think of the 2 people who sat there together, Bibles in their laps, trays with their lunch on a table nearby. I'm grateful to the Lord for the ways He used my Opa and Oma to shape my faith and help make me the person I am today. |
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December 2017
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