“In the same way husbands should love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself.” Ephesians 5:28
To conclude my series of father’s who had a profound effect on me, I’m choosing to write about my husband. He’s pictured here as an artist, but he’s so much more. He’s German by heritage. He’s got a tremendous work ethic, even at his age of 81. In his career he started out as an apprentice at a print shop, where he learned how to set type by hand. From that he became a graphic designer and worked his way up to creative director for a prominent advertising agency in Minneapolis. He started his own business in the basement of an old mansion and grew to seven full time employees. His agency was successful for more than 12 years. When the economy took a dive, so did his business. That didn’t stop him. Even though we lost everything through that experience, he pushed forward with the knowledge that God had a plan for him and his family. He spent the next 25 years pursuing a fine arts career for his talent. With determination, perseverance and energy he turned disaster into a tool to get him to the next step.
When I first met the man, I’d someday marry, I had a pretty good idea he was the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. He had a great sense of humor, confidence, knew what he wanted from life, had a strong faith in God, wasn’t afraid of hard work, had a sense of humor (oh, did I mention that?) A sense of humor is vital if you’re going to share a lifetime with someone. When you’re blessed with children, it is imperative. We met in high school in 1957. We’ve been the best of friends since. My husband was the fellow who enjoyed having kids around. He made them laugh, showed them how to play catch, how to handle disagreements, how to whittle something out of a piece of wood. When we had children of our own, I knew he was going to be a great dad. He was always first on the scene when there was an injury, to stop the bleeding, make a tourniquet, soothe bruised muscles. He had a calming influence on our children in all their panicky moments. I on the other hand was worthless.
I think it is really important for children to know that their parents are a team and that they hold each other in great esteem and respect. This man set some high standards for our children. He never forgot an anniversary or birthday and flowers were always involved. Our children also learned about struggle as their dad showed them how to handle defeat, failure, illness and sadness. He made sure they all went to church each week and got a Christian education – even when they fought it. They could see his faith in action throughout their childhood and even more now, as he continues to turn to the Lord for all his needs.
I love this man. He has made so many sacrifices for us through these many years. He always places his God and his family before anything else. God knew he would be good for me. We’ve built a family together, shared our successes and sorrows, grown old together and become closer to our Savior. I thank God for blessing our children and me with this guy.
I’ve known him almost my whole life and still there’s much to learn,
We’ve grown up through our many years, but still our love does burn,
We’ve shared in disappointments, in troubles and in loss,
We’ve tried to lay our problems at the foot of Jesus’ cross,
When times have seemed impossible, when we just can’t go on,
We know we have each other and the love of God’s own Son,
Things aren’t always easy, our struggles never end,
But with our Savior at our side, we have the perfect blend.
My dad taught me how to tie my shoes. He grieved with me when my box turtle fell off the ledge of our fourth floor apartment. He came with me to the five and dime to return a trinket I had stolen and apologize for not paying for it. He caught me taking one of his cigarettes – A Chesterfield, without a filter. He then taught me the proper way for a lady to hold a cigarette. I was probably fifteen. My dad taught me the difference between right and wrong And let me know that I would always be accountable for my actions. When I became a teenager, he was the one who told me the facts of life. It really made him squirm. He always “interviewed” my dates. They had to pass his inspection, but their opinion of him didn’t matter. He would be at the door to greet us when we got home. I tried my best to live up to his expectations, but I never felt I could. His words of praise were few and far between, But I relished each one and held it tightly in my heart. He worked extra jobs so I could attend a private, Christian high school. He wanted so much more for my sister and me – More than he ever had. He must have thought we needed extra attention.
He had a beautiful tenor voice and always sang loudly in church. His Irish heritage boomed on St. Patrick’s day as he sang “Danny Boy” And raised another glass. He could drink more beer than the rest of them and it didn’t affect him in the least. Martinis with an olive, didn’t numb him at all. He loved to bowl. He bowled an almost perfect game in a tournament with a score of 298. He won a special ring and a year’s supply of Wheaties, the breakfast of champions. He liked to golf too. It must’ve been hard for him to be the only man in a family of women, but he never complained. Working at a factory as a foreman during the third shift, we rarely got to see him. When we did, he was usually tired from working so hard. Our dinner table discussions left a lot to be desired.
Time passed and I fell in love. When my future husband asked for my hand, my dad said, “Go ahead. She’s your problem now.” Then came the time for the wedding. My dad went a little crazy for a while. He put the newspaper in the refrigerator, and the bread down the clothes chute. He became an emotional wreck. I tried to get to the source of his behavior. All he could say was, “I can’t get used to the idea of losing you.” It made me cry, because he finally spoke truthfully to me. I cried too. He held my arm tightly as we walked down the aisle to meet my husband, I could see tears glistening in his usually stoic eyes. He was so proud. He and my father-in-law sat on the curb outside our reception venue and reminisced about their children. They had become good friends during our lengthy courtship.
He died at sixty one – a long time smoker – he suffered with lung cancer. He clung tightly to life – maybe feeling he wasn’t quite ready for what lay ahead. Maybe he hadn’t yet made peace with God for his past sins. Finally knowing that he was forgiven allowed him to give in. It gave him comfort. I wasn’t at his side when he passed. We were driving to be with him. As I looked at the brilliant blue sky, a cloud appeared and took on the Form of a dove. It quickly floated high above and dispersed into heaven. It gave me comfort.
I look forward to seeing him again so I can let him know that he had a great impact on my life. Though our time here on earth was short, I will never forget him. He showed me how to persevere in times of adversity. He taught me how to be patient, how to take responsibility for my actions, compassionate, stern when necessary and how to follow my dreams. He loved God and taught me to do the same. He fought many demons in his short life, but he never gave up.
HAPPY FATHER’S DAY, DAD. THE MEMORY OF YOU WILL NEVER DIE.
I know very little about this man. My paternal grandfather was not on the scene when I was born. My grandmother never mentioned him, but the story is that he was a tailor. He was probably in his twenties when he connected with her. We have no marriage certificate to depend on for information. Ancestry has the above photo and lists his mother’s home of origin to be Ireland. He fathered four children with my grandmother. One of them was my dad. I would love to know what happened in truth, but then again, I may not like what I find out. Some of the stories circulating (speculated) were that he deserted my grandmother and her four children when they lived in Saskatchewan, Canada. It was also guessed that he was a heavy gambler and had accumulated a great deal of debt because of it. Was he murdered? Did he take his own life? Did he run away and try to start a new life? Whatever the case may be, I would like to know a little more about him.
There usually are a few questions when researching your family history – a skeleton or two in the closet. I wonder if he was a Christian. I know his mother was a Roman Catholic, but whether she passed that on is questionable. I would like to have him know how his family turned out, in spite of his leaving them. I wish I could meet him face to face and tell him that he is forgiven for his past sins. I hope he came to learn that. He must’ve been a good tailor. He passed that skill on to his wife who passed it on to me. I’m not a tailor, but I’ve made about a million costumes over the years.
I would love to tell him that he started a family of hard working, over achievers. I wish he could’ve seen how those children raised families of their own who also excelled in their service to country, to their fellow man and to the working class of America. His grandchildren would’ve made him proud, I’m sure. Because the family was left to fend for themselves, my grandmother had to go to work to support them. Her children were also expected to contribute to the family earnings. I don’t believe my dad had a very happy childhood. My grandmother taught me many things and I know she loves me, but she was a bitter woman for most of her life.
We can’t change our past. We can do something about the future, however. The people that bring us into this world don’t define us, but many of their attributes and attitudes are passed on. I feel blessed that my family continued to instill moral values into their children. This is one of the greatest gifts a dad can give to his family. In the pursuit of happiness, our goal should always be to look ahead and not back. Press on to the future and trust in God.
“Son, brother, father, lover, friend. There is room in the heart for all the affections, as there is room in heaven for all the stars.” — Victor Hugo
MY FATHER-IN-LAW – ROBERT HENRY BOECHER – 1909-1965
When I was first introduced to my future father-in-law, I was surprised to discover him a man of many hats. He had followed his own father’s footsteps by going into partnership with his only brother to continue the funeral business. This was sort of expected in those times – when an established business was handed from one generation to another. I could tell that I was going to like him right off the bat. Though successful and wealthy, he had a way of communicating that made me feel completely at ease. I suppose part of his success had to do with those communication skills. I later learned that he had taken a public speaking course in his youth. Apparently, he liked being on stage in high school. The skills he learned as a young man, obviously had a positive effect on his career.
He had to learn all about the human body. He had to be on call at a moment’s notice. He spent many hours waiting for work. He endured all the dead people jokes everyone has for an undertaker, but he had a wonderful sense of humor and usually had an answer for them. He was a fisherman and spent hours on the lake at their family “cabin.” When fishing with his son (my husband) he would encourage him to put the bait in his mouth to keep it warm. Of course, he knew his dad was kidding. There were many adventures at that lake. Paul was encouraged to get involved with sailing and working as a crew member for other sailboat operators. That resulted in many a regatta on the weekends.
Eventually the neighborhood that housed the funeral home, as well as their living quarters, became the subject of race riots and unrest. Property values fell and so did the business. He stuck with it though, putting all his effort into making it work to support his family. He also saw to it that both of his children were given a Christian education from kindergarten through high school. When his son told him that he wanted to pursue a career in art, he encouraged him to do so. He never pushed him into feeling responsible to take over the family business. I am eternally grateful for that.
He died far too young. He was only 56 years old. He never got to meet his future son-in-law or his grandchildren. I believe that his memory lives on through his children and I thank God for giving me the opportunity to know him. Since his death in 1965, the funeral home has passed through a few different businesses. In 2002, it was purchased by the church which they attended. The same church they worshiped at and where they attended school was in need of expansion. The funeral home was on the other side of the same street, and they purchased it. It’s now the home of “Time of Grace,” a television ministry. It seems that God had a plan for that place as well.
Thank you, dear heavenly Father, for giving me a special father-in-law. Though I only knew him for a few years, he had a tremendous impact on my life. His love for his family, his Christian discipline, his work ethic, his determination in times of trouble and his faith in God have all passed down to his children, his grandchildren and his great grandchildren. He knew the one thing necessary for a successful life. AMEN!
The above photo was taken from the internet and doesn’t include my grandfather, but it is typical of what a lineman did in the early 1900s.
When Erving William Forsterling was born on 23 June 1894, in Howards Grove, Sheboygan, Wisconsin, United States, his father, Herman Forsterling, was 36 and his mother, Louise Marie Bennin, was 25. He had at least 2 sons and 5 daughters with Ellen Mary Dussault. He lived in Ackley, Langlade, Wisconsin, United States in 1900 and Peck, Langlade, Wisconsin, United States for about 25 years. He died on 4 April 1967, in Antigo, Langlade, Wisconsin, United States, at the age of 72, and was buried in Elmwood Cemetery, Antigo, Langlade, Wisconsin, United States.
Not much is known about my paternal grandfather, so I’m choosing to introduce you to my mother’s dad, Erving Fosterling. For some unknown reason, his last name was changed from the original Forsterling. Maybe it was easier to say without that extra “r.” My grandpa inherited part of his father’s farm along with his brother, Herman. Grandpa wasn’t much of a farmer. Not that he didn’t enjoy physical labor. Instead, he chose to become a lineman for the telephone company. This job required great strength and stamina. It also held great danger for those who would climb the poles and install the wires.
I think my grandpa longed for a son, but instead, his beautiful wife delivered five daughters before any boys showed up. My mother was one of them. My grandmother ran the farm, along with a number of farmhands, while Grandpa strung telephone wire across Wisconsin. Eventually he retired from that job and settled into farm life. His only two sons followed his lead. They first joined the army and eventually became linemen for the electric company – jobs that would prove fatal to both of them. He would also live to see his first daughter killed in an automobile crash at the age of 21. Another daughter died of Leukemia. Only three of his children were alive to attend his funeral. In his later years, he became bedridden because of a stroke which paralyzed him. My grandma was his caregiver for several years before his death.
My years at the farm hold memories of both of my grandparents, but more of my grandmother, since she was the one who managed the homestead. I do remember their telephone though. Undoubtedly the line to it was strung by Grandpa. It was one of those wall-mounted, crank style phones and it had several parties on the same line. We often listened in on some of their conversations while visiting. I still own a phone like that, and it brings fond memories.
Grandpa Fosterling had soft, blue eyes that almost sparkled even when he was bedridden. They would light up especially bright as he recalled hunting trips and bagging a ten-point buck. That deer’s head was mounted on the wall in their living room. Guess who inherited it? He loved to hunt. He was stern, but good natured. He was patient and enduring in times of trouble and compassionate to a fault.
When Albert Nedden was born on 1 January 1873, in Prussia, German Empire, his father, Johann Gustav Nedden, was 53 and his mother, Henriette Ernestine Wilhelmine Emilie Nedden, was 45. He had at least 1 son and 3 daughters with Bertha Kauffmann. He lived in Manitowoc Rapids, Manitowoc, Wisconsin, United States in 1880 and Wisconsin, United States in 1961. He died on 9 March 1961, in Antigo, Langlade, Wisconsin, United States, at the age of 88, and was buried in Antigo, Langlade, Wisconsin, United States.
I can’t really say that I remember him well, but the things I do recall are all positive. He fathered at least one son and three daughters – one of whom became my grandmother. My grandma was deserted by her husband and left to support four children on her own. She returned to her family after this disaster and her parents played a large part in my own dad’s upbringing. I would imagine that Great Grandpa Nedden was a stern man, but reasonable. It was because of him that my dad became a responsible young man with a good set of morals. When those standards are set within a family, the tendency is for them to continue from one generation to the next. At the turn of the 19th century, our country was undergoing a great deal of change – much like it is today. The Industrial Revolution had a great influence on what was happening in the home, the workplace and even in the church.
My great grandfather was a conductor on the early passenger trains which carried the eastern entrepreneurs across country. I remember him displaying the gold pocket watch from his days on the railroad. He’d walk down to the train depot each day after he retired and convened with other veteran railroad workers, telling stories about those good old days. It had become part of his life all the way until his death. He no longer had the stamina to be a conductor, but he still had his memories and a voice.
He was a tall man – standing about 6′ high. His petite wife was no more than 5′ tall so they must’ve appeared to be an odd couple. He stayed fit well into his retirement years as he walked quite a bit during that time. Maybe it was a refuge from all those train rides he endured. I don’t know if he ever encountered any of those legendary outlaws of the time. Unfortunately, I know very little about him, but I could see the results of his parenting through the children he raised.
I thank God for giving me a firm foundation through the ancestors within my family. I hope and pray that my grandchildren and someday great grandchildren, will continue that tradition within their own families.
“A good father is one of the most unsung, unpraised, unnoticed, and yet one of the most valuable assets in our society.” Billy Graham
It’s only one week until Father’s Day. I agree with Billy Graham on this subject. Fathers are often thought of as an extension of mom, the guy who deals out rules and regulations, the one who stifles their child’s adventures. They have very little value today in the public realm, but when you consider that God is our heavenly Father, you have to admit that we should honor dads not just one day a year, but every single one of them. So, with that in mind, I will be spending the next few days talking about the fathers that influenced my life. They were all average men, with strong work ethics. They cared about their families and set examples for their children. They didn’t accomplish great notoriety or fame, but they were exceptional men who believed they were doing the best for their children. Even when they made mistakes, they were doing what was best.
So, take a walk with me this week as I tell their stories. I would be negligent if I didn’t mention the Father of all fathers. God has set a high bar for men to follow. His expectations for those who take on this position of merit are of the most importance. So, we better listen to what He has to say about parenting. God is our original Father, since He created all of mankind. Next in line was the leader of the family. Whether good or bad, we are lacking a great deal. The fact that mankind is not God shows us that we have a lot to live up to in this life, but if we follow His example, it will be more than worthwhile. Anyone can be a father, but it takes a special kind of man to be one we can truly respect.
Thank you, Father God, for leading, guiding, teaching, listening, helping and so much more. You created each life with high expectations. As we honor fathers this week, remind of us of you – the perfect example of what it takes to be a dad and the gifts we receive from them. Your only Son was perfection. Because of your relationship, you were willing to give Him up as the ransom for all sin. You did that for every human being – the perfect gift.
A tender shepherd walked this earth with love within his touch, His words could calm the troubled sheep, His hands led them through much. He chased away the predators, He brought them safely home. He often searched for many hours for one who liked to roam. He nurtured and He led them to pastures lush and green, He sometimes pushed and prodded, through perils yet unseen. His rod and staff protected – His love would see them through, For they were His possession – He did what He must do. He found the purest water to quench their endless thirst, A clean and living water that always put them first. This great and perfect shepherd still leads us every day. His life He gave – became the sheep – to take our sins away. No price can compensate Him. He dwells among us still. He leads our souls to heaven. He guides us with His will.
“A garden to walk in and immensity to dream in–what more could he ask? A few flowers at his feet and above him the stars.” ― Victor Hugo, Les Misérables
Well, here it is Friday. The end of the work week. The beginning of the weekend and then it’s back to the same old same old. Or is it? What did you accomplish this week? I got up this morning – again. The sun is shining – again. I’m alive and pretty much awake – again. I’m looking forward to the weekend, but every day is the weekend when you’re retired. I woke up next to the man I’ve loved for a lifetime – again. I’m capable of writing my blog – again.
Think about what God accomplished in one short week, when He created something out of nothing – divided the sky from the earth – the light from darkness – placed the stars in the heavens – the seas apart from the land – made every living creature including mankind – provided a perfect paradise for them to care for and enjoy. Obviously, we don’t even come close in our accomplishments. We, in fact, are the ones who made a mess out of His perfection, but His love is so perfect and unconditional, He has made it possible for us to reconnect with Him in eternity. We also have the ability to live life to the fullest because of Him.
There is no greater God than ours. He is perfect in every way. He loves us in spite of us. He forgives all our wrongdoing, by providing the perfect sacrifice. He is perfection. Because we now have access to Him, we can talk directly to Him and He will respond. Our prayers are heard and answered. Friday is a good day to contemplate what He offered for our salvation. His Son took on the burden of every sin and died in our place on a Friday. He suffered bitterly for our transgressions. While still in the grave, He defeated our enemy and on the third day rose to life again. That is unconditional love to the max.
So, it’s Friday – again. Here’s to many more of them. May God continue to shine His light on you in the days ahead. May you continue your walk of faith with Him. May you meet Him face to face one day in Paradise. May He give you eternal peace.
SINCE TODAY IS THROW BACK THURSDAY, I’M DOING A RERUN OF ONE ORGINALLY WRITTEN ON 5/11/17
As we travel this road called life, we will encounter chaos. It is not the way God intended our path to be.
He created perfection.
He created order.
In the middle of nothing, He melted the darkness and made light.
He stirred the winds and His breath established land masses from the seas.
He designed a perfect environment for every living thing.
With one word, He said and it was.
He placed His ultimately crafted humanity within it all.
And then there was chaos.
Every day we’re exposed to the chaos of this world. We see it in our government, our places of employment, our child rearing, our education, on the streets – everywhere. We argue among ourselves over how it should be – how it could be – why it isn’t the way we think it should be and still solutions seem nonexistent.
The world tells us that we shouldn’t rely on our Creator – to think for ourselves, depend on meditation, inner-peace, self. Yet, as children of the Creator, we have no choice but to depend on Him.
The spider whips up a snare for her dinner without knowing why.
The unlikely caterpillar spins a cocoon so that beauty will emerge.
A soon-to-be-mother goes through months of discomfort, swollen body, forgetting what her feet look like, to bring forth new life that presents its own form of chaos.
Chaos, like necessity, gives rise to order. As we look around us and wonder over all the confusion, unrest, bedlam and mass hysteria, we could drown in depression and anxiety. We could be swallowed up by it, but never forget that God is in control. He never changes even though everything around us does.
In the flurry of chaos, He gives us the ability to think clearly.
In the storms of life, He provides tranquility and peace.
In the depths of hopelessness, He gives us sure hope and promise.
On our earthly journey, when faced with difficult decisions,
He gives us strength,
Certainty
Choices.
He brings order out of chaos.
He raises up the poor from the dust; he lifts the needy from the ash heap to make them sit with princes and inherit a seat of honor. For the pillars of the earth are the Lord’s, and on them he has set the world. 1 Samuel 2:8
It’s Wednesday – Hump Day – National Chocolate Ice Cream Day -the middle of the work week – a day to share some wisdom. So, since I’ve been called a “Wise Guy” from time to time, I may be qualified to share some wisdom with you. We’ll talk about the chocolate ice cream later.
Surrounding yourself with positive friends can lead to a life of success. Success may come in many ways. Through your business dealings, your relationships, your family, your lifestyle, your dreams and hopes for the future. If you hang with people that share your goals and encourage you to keep on going, you will have a much better chance of realizing your dreams. There is a lot about that very subject in the Bible – not limited to these particular verses. If you ever want wisdom advice, check out the book of Proverbs.
Proverbs 3:3-4 (ESV) “Let not steadfast love and faithfulness forsake you; bind them around your neck; write them on the tablet of your heart. So you will find favor and good success in the sight of God and man.”
When my husband was at the height of his business career, he had lots of friends. When the bottom fell out and he lost everything – many of those friends disappeared. The ones who hung around were his true friends – those he had always counted on to give him positive advice and fix his eyes on the truth of God’s vision of success. Those who left his side, were simply around for the ride and maybe felt that some of his success would rub off on them. It was a terrible time in our lives and yet we were never alone. Our constant, ever-present friend was Jesus. We knew that He would never leave or forsake us. That fact carried us through a time of rebuilding, restoration and relief. Not only that, but the friends who remained provided spiritual, physical and mental consolation.
So, when you feel friendless – when it seems that no one really cares about you or your life – when time seems to be running out and the future holds no promise – remember this truth. Jesus loves you so much that He died for you. He came back from death as a forerunner for us. He lives and so will we. Our future is guaranteed because of the price He paid for our salvation. The friends we choose in this world are important too. If they are grounded in God’s Word, chances are they are a great choice.
It’s Tuesday – just another day of the week – a day to finish what you didn’t get done on Monday or to transfer all that stuff to Wednesday and just be glad you made it through another night. Whatever you think of Tuesday – or any day, for that matter – when you get up into the senior years, every day is a bonus. Unfortunately, we often get so wrapped up in the tasks we place upon our shoulders, that we forget how blessed we are to still be able to accomplish a few of them,
On Mondays we make a to-do list. Methodically we scratch item off the list. Tuesday might be a good day to make another list of the things we did get done and what a blessing each of those things were to us. So here’s my Tuesday list of Monday blessings.
Iwoke up and thanked God for another day of life.
I wrote my blog.
I gave my husband a kiss.
I stubbed my toe on my walker so decided that was enough of that.
I used my cane instead.
I was able to do my grocery shopping on my own.
I did a load of wash.
I watched the construction crew tear down part of a fence.
I saw the feral cats playing together.
I saw my flowers come to life after they got a good drink from the hose.
I saw the results of a beautiful, painting commission my husband is working on.
I thought about dusting the furniture – but realized it was going to need it again tomorrow, so I didn’t.
I caught up on my emails.
I listened to another funny story from my husband, which I’ve heard a hundred times before.
I laughed again.
I felt good, even though I didn’t accomplish most of the things on the list. So, I made my Tuesday list.
Here’s my list for today:
Thank God for another day.
Enjoy time writing with friends.
Make a list for tomorrow.
Make dinner for my granddaughter.
OK, a lot doesn’t go on in my life, but those little things mean a lot to me. Maybe if we spent as much energy on the important, little things, our lives would be so much better.
It’s Monday again. The only reason I know that is because yesterday was Sunday and the third Sunday in a row, we’ve been able to attend church in person. Getting the week started has always depended on that event. Physically attending church and watching it on a device are definitely different. Part of the experience of worship is a time to fellowship with others who share your faith. It can be an opportunity to encourage and be encouraged – to share your physical, mental and spiritual struggles – to praise, thank and honor God in his house. When you sit in front of a screen in your pajamas, with a cup of coffee and a Danish, it just isn’t the same as singing praise to God with others in a sanctuary designed for that.
There is a lot to be said for corporal worship. The sound of many voices, singing in harmony or not, still inspires me. Even though my body is reaching the end of its run, I love to watch the little children as they listen intently during the children’s message. My heart applies the truth of the Word of God and sets me on track for the rest of the week. Unfortunately, life often gets in the way and pushes me back to Friday – longing for that fellowship time.
God knew it wasn’t good for man to be alone – that he would need a helper, a comforter, an encourager. So, He created woman out of the man’s rib. How significant is that? The ribs are designed to protect the heart and other vital organs. He didn’t stop there. Mankind reproduced and populated large communities and eventually covered almost the entire world. Even when mankind fell into sin, God gave everyone a way out.
The fellowship shouldn’t end on Sunday but continue throughout the week. The pandemic isolated the world for three years and we saw the result of that. We became guarded, closed in and lost the ability to communicate face to face – the human touch of a hug or handshake – the lack of inclusion, camaraderie and togetherness. I pray that we never become creatures of our environment, but still realize that God is with us all the time. We don’t have to worship in a church. We can do so anywhere. His Word can be shared on a daily basis within our homes. We can see His beauty in creation and praise Him there. We can sit around a campfire, toasting marshmallows and enjoying the closeness of friends and family. The truth is, God is with us, in us and among us always. He has promised never to leave us and He always keeps His promises.
Yesterday’s post was about taking a vacation after you’ve retired. I’d like to add just a few thoughts about the generation gap. The thing about being a slave to your phone has to do with missing out on the essence, adventure and beauty of a road trip. I know our kids have been raised on technology, but I would suggest that when traveling, cell phones should be left home. Not only does this allow for a different view of the world, but it also calls on the brain to work. Soaking in the landscape – breathing the mountain air – watching for landmarks and monuments of days long past – all lead to an invigoration of the senses.
A few years back, my husband traveled with our daughter, husband and two sons through the western states. Everything from Mt. Rushmore to the Grand Canyon and other unbelievable places. Paul hoped they’d be able to take some pictures of Mt. Rushmore, but when the passed by it the next morning, it was fogged in. They did come to a stop though and the fog slowly lifted. They finally were able to see a portion of George Washington’s nose. One grandson thought it strange that Ronald Regan wasn’t up there, but how could he tell if he was? My point is this. We become so conditioned and controlled by our devices, we often fail to see the magnificence of God’s vast array of color, variable landscapes, amazing animals and so much more, because we are buried in social media.
I must admit, when we traveled in our van several years ago with our kids, there was a TV available for them to watch movies. It helped during the boring parts of the trips, but Paul wanted them to experience the journey rather than anything else.
Today, we have difficulty getting in the car to do weekly shopping chores. After a few minutes behind a cart and trying to reach things on the top shelf, our out of shape bodies are screaming at us. Yesterday I got out of the car first as Paul parked the car. I saw him come in, but he didn’t see me. He hurriedly pushed ahead to find me, and my voice didn’t reach his ears, so he set out in search of me. I tried to catch him, but he was too far away for me to make contact. It was one of the fastest shopping trips we’ve taken in some time. We also were exhausted by the time we got home. Isn’t the aging process fun?
Taking a vacation when retired is kind of a misnomer. I mean to take a vacation when you’re on a “vacation” every day seems repetitive at the least. We’ve opted to take short trips rather than the average drive to another state. We discovered that we like each other a lot more that way. The act of retirement changes your life in many ways, but the most difficult to navigate is being together – alone – all the time – repeating the same stories – becoming impatient – breathing the same air – finishing each other’s sentences – living life every moment simultaneously. Because of extenuating circumstances anything over ten miles becomes problematic. There is the need for a rest stop. the conundrum of getting hungry at different times. The necessity for a nap – which is best done while not driving. There is also the issue of conversation. When you’re hard of hearing and the radio is blasting out western music, it can be a real problem communicating. Miscommunication has been the source of most of our spats lately. Yet I keep putting off getting expensive hearing aids because most of my friends have them and still can’t hear. But I digress.
On one trip out west, we ended up in Estes Park, Colorado. The scenery was magnificent. There was wildlife everywhere and I’m not talking about the people. There were real live animals at every turn. I had no idea I was about to experience mountain sickness. I’ve been in the mountains before, but this was different. The altitude was more intense, I guess. We drove into a campground with our pick-up truck with a small camper top. I decided it was time for me to go to bed, so I crawled into the camper and started to change my clothes. All of a sudden, the already small area seemed to close in on me. I was experiencing claustrophobia, I thought. It turned out to be mountain sickness and claustrophobia. If felt like my head was detaching from my body. I let out with a blood curdling scream. “Get me out of here,” I shouted. “I can’t stand it anymore. Somebody, please help me.” Eventually i was able to free myself from my creepy prison and make my way to the restroom. When I returned, there was a large crowd gathered around our truck. It turned out the custodian for the campground was parked right next to our vehicle. He was responding to my cries for help. Others from different sites were also there to see what was going on.
There are many other tales that seem to grow in size and become embellished with time, but you wouldn’t believe them if I told you. My point is, traveling when you’re retired can be fun, a series of mishaps or another story for your blog. I must admit, the scenery was beautiful. The fresh air was wonderful. The beauty of God’s creation was definitely everywhere. When we look out our window, we can also see some amazing views. Flowers we planted 7 years ago are flourishing. Birds are starting to visit our feeders and build nests. The antics of the feral cats is always a floor show to behold. Beauty can be found even in the road construction going on in our backyard. It’s amazing to watch things beginning to take shape and what it takes to do so. I’m a homebody. My husband still loves the wilderness. He has had to make some changes to his lifestyle, so hiking is no longer an option. My weary body has given way to using a walker, but I’m trying to figure out how to turn it into a garden tool. We still have each other. We’re not dead yet and life is good. The next journey is going to be even better.
I’m retired. Woo hoo!! Most of my friends have good retirement funds – financial plans that paid off – money in the mattress – stocks and bonds – all sorts of resources including Social Security benefits which have become our main source of income. In other words – my friends often take trips to various places like Japan, The Dominican Republic – Greenland – Europe. Some opt to take trips right here in the USA. There are many wonderful options right in our own backyard. My backyard is now a construction site, so a drive to Nowthen is probably the closest place we can go to escape. Nowthen is a little suburb of Minneapolis which was undoubtedly named by a Norwegian. When my friends talk about their trips to wherever, I always chime in with my destination of South Minneapolis, which is also unlikely because of other road construction preventing travel within our city’s infrastructure.
A while back, someone came up with the idea of a “Staycation.” This means you skip all the travel arrangements, expensive camping gear, luxury hotels, airline tickets, dining out and the like. You stay home. I’m not sure if this idea came up before or after the pandemic, but for some of us, it’s the best idea yet. Your gas budget stays intact. You don’t hear the question, “Are we there yet?” You spend a little bit more for food than you normally would. You can watch the Travel Channel to get away to those remote places you’d never see otherwise. You can order Chinese, Italian, Greek, Mexican, Mediterranean, German food and have it Door Dashed to your front door without having to lift a finger. You can take trips to local museums, parks, art galleries or theatres to liven it up a little. Board games might be a final resort for boredom – or a good game of cards. My point is you don’t have to spend a lot on a vacation to have fun.
Personal bonding time happens during the course of a staycation. You get to know each other through this experience and have a whole week or two to do it. You might find out that your family is really special, unique, praiseworthy, intelligent and fun. By the end of the first couple of days, you may choose otherwise, but hang in there. It will get better. By the end of the week, you may still be talking to each other. You may even discover a whole new side of yourself that’s been hiding under a pile of work for the past year. Don’t discount this option. It might be what you need to bring new life back into your family. Have a happy Staycation!
As I reach the end of my years, I find I have a lot of good information stored up in this old decrepit mind of mine. If I don't write it all down, it may vanish and no one will have the advantage of my thoughts. This is why this blog exists. I love the Lord, Jesus with all my heart and soul. I know I'm undeserving of all He's done for me, but I also know that His love is beyond my comprehension.
I've always wanted to write. I never kept diaries, but tucked my thoughts in my head for future reference. I use them now in creating stories, plays, poetry and my blog.
I continue to learn every day. I believe the compilation of our time spent with God will have huge affect on the way we live. I know I'm a sinner and I need a Savior. I have One through Jesus, Christ.
My book, "Stages - a memoir," is about the seven stages of life from the perspective of a woman. It addresses all the things girls and women go through in life as they travel it with Jesus, and it is available on Amazon.com.
Life is a patchwork of moments — laughter, solitude, everyday joys, and quiet aches. Through scribbled stories, I explore travels both far and inward, from sunrise over unfamiliar streets to the comfort of home. This is life as I see it, captured in ink and memory. Stick around; let's wander together.
atimetoshare.me 
You must be logged in to post a comment.