40 and Fabulous!

There's something about turning 40 that makes you realize how OLD you are.

On my birthday, Sunday the 18th, I couldn't help noticing the wrinkles around my eyes, and the deep furrows on my forehead. I woke up feeling just a little blue, but I made it a point to praise God for giving me 40 beautiful years.

It was a nice, low-key day. I enjoyed lunch of fish tacos with my new friend Laura while Bill and Allyson made me a cookie cake. We had a delectable chuck roast for dinner, which I'd prepared in a marathon cooking day (6 hours straight) with a friend the day before. After that, we tucked into the cookie cake. This was probably the indulgence that knocked me off the wagon I've been on since January; I couldn't stop cutting off little pieces to "even it out."



Bill presented me with what we hope will be a lovely blue wisteria vine, the kind with pendulous flowers that resemble grape clusters. This doesn't exactly replace my poor cypress, but it has the potential to make my heart glad. He and Allyson planted it next to the pergola, wrapping it around one of the supports.



About a week prior, Bill had planted the pathetic banana trees pictured below. He got them from a coworker and brought them home from work in a garbage can. The rest of us found that absolutely hilarious for some reason. When I laughingly inquired whether these were supposed to make up for my cypress tree, he replied, "Spoken with confidence by the woman who ate all the Easter truffles."

I protested that it had taken me nine days to eat eight truffles. If he was too lazy to help himself to one in all that time, he wasn't worthy of the truffles. (They were sooo good.)

Anyway, Bill planted the banana trees in front of Lola's ugly chain-link dog run. We're hoping they'll take root and beautify her little corner. Lola danced around Bill's feet the whole time he worked, eying up this latest delicacy.



See that little log-looking thing? That's one of the insidious cypress roots that Bill was able to wrest from the ground. Bill put it in front of the little trees to discourage Lola from molesting them--ha!!

I guess she decided they weren't worth the trouble. They're still hanging in there, and maybe they'll perk up eventually. Meanwhile, she's been digging around the base of the wisteria vine. Bill had to put an ugly black cage around it to keep her away. Sigh...

The Big Party
We had my big celebration a week after my birthday, on Saturday the 24th. Bill threw a big party for all my family and a handful of friends. We wished we could have invited more people, but our house was bursting at the seams as it was. Bill catered in fajitas and all the fixings from On the Border, and oh my was it good. And the cake was delicious, too. I should know; I had four slices in four days. (I told you I fell off the wagon. And I haven't even started on Ethan's giant "Oreo cookie cake," whose irresistible aroma is even now wafting up the stairs from the oven.)

Surprisingly, my favorite moment was the "Happy Birthday" song. Of course, I had that sheepish feeling I always get when I'm the center of attention, like the way I feel when all the waiters sing to me in a restaurant. At the same time, though, tears pricked my eyes as I looked around at all these people who love me, who had gathered around me to celebrate my 40 years of life.

I also enjoyed playing cards with Mom, Aunt Judy, my niece Hillary, Bill, and friends Ben and Karen. I'm always begging to play games, and this time they couldn't say no since it was my birthday.

My New "40 and Fabulous" Glass A Gift From My Friend Marie

Yes, there's something about turning 40... that makes you realize how BLESSED you are. Here are just a few those blessed moments, which Bill compiled into a slide show for my party....

See My Red Hair!

Hard To Believe This Isn't Allyson (Age 3)


Melody, Me, Amy, Rick


Age 3 or So--Looks Like Allyson


Rick, Dad, Mom, Melody
Amy, Me (Age 6?), Emily


Age 7 or So--Looks Like Ethan


Extended Family, Dad's Side, Circa 1977
I'm On Front Row, Second From Left
Between Aunt Carol and Dad


Making Deviled Eggs
Emily, Me (Age 14 or so), Amy


High School Graduation (1988)


Me And Sister Emily (Both Expecting 1st Babies)
Emily's Mother-In-Law Mary (1996)

Their Journeys Through Life

One of my favorite hobbies, which I also consider a ministry, is helping people compile their life stories. I started by transcribing my maternal grandparents' autobiographies. After I had typed all the text, my sister-in-law Diane inserted many pictures, mostly from old slides. Then my brother Rick created the book cover according to our instructions. This was such a rewarding family project, and the finished book, Our Journey Through Life, turned out great!

Grandpa and Grandma's Wedding Rings,
On Grandma's Silk Wedding Blouse

You can check out Grandma's book here, and buy it or download a free PDF copy if you'd like. If you do read her story, I know she'd love to hear your comments. You can enter comments on my blog, and I'll pass them along to her, or you can post a review on the book's website.

Jack and Jeanne
Not too long after we'd finished Grandma's book, I was praying about what I could possibly do to minister to others. I was part of a nursing home visitation program through my church at the time, and I was so excited when the answer came: I could collect and transcribe the residents' stories! I interviewed several people, but most had only a few stories to share. Then I met Jack, and boy could he tell a story! I was spellbound as I transcribed his World War II stories.

Over the course of a year, I compiled Jack's autobiography in my spare time. This involved many visits to the nursing home, almost always with Allyson in tow. Jack's wife Jeanne fell in love with Allyson, and the feeling was mutual. Allyson always sits in her lap, and Jeanne usually gives her a cookie or some strawberry yogurt from their tiny refrigerator.

Jeanne and Allyson

Nearly all the residents love Allyson. At first she was overwhelmed by all the hands and voices reaching out to her, but she's gradually gotten more comfortable there. Even the grumpiest men brighten when she waves at them, and even the ones who can no longer speak can clearly express their joy. (It reminds me of the last time I saw my grandfather. He couldn't talk, but he reached out for baby Allyson with both arms. I set her on his lap gingerly, still holding her lightly, but he wouldn't have dropped her; his grip was surprisingly strong. His entire face was lit up with joy, and tears streamed down my cheeks. I am so thankful for that memory.)



Jack's book took me so long that we both probably figured it would never be finished, but the day finally came a couple of weeks ago. Though he couldn't really see it, he was so proud when he held the book in his hands for the first time. I hope his family enjoys the book for generations.

Jeanne and Jack on Their Wedding Day

Click here to view, order, or download Jack's book.

Now I need to finish my parents' autobiography and start another one at the nursing home. I'm praying for God to lead me to a person who is longing to share his or her story--maybe a woman this time.

Would YOU Like to Write a Book?
Publishing a book these days is surprisingly easy. I used a site called Lulu to self publish both books. The cost was quite reasonable, and the best part is that it required no up-front cost. Each book is printed and sold individually, with all costs paid by the buyer. You can choose whether to mark up the price or sell it at cost, and where to send any profits--even to a charity, if you like.

I strongly encourage you to publish your own family stories! I'd be happy to answer any questions you might have.

He Makes Me Lie Down

During the last few weeks, I've been battling anxiety every time I read the newspaper or watch the news--I seem to have a compulsion to hear about the latest round of layoffs and business failures. The recession became more real to me recently when my own company--which employs both me and my husband--laid off a modest number of workers, and also when I started to see some friends in our area losing jobs.

I'm thankful for my current memory passage, which admonishes me not to worry about what we will eat or drink or wear, but I haven't really allowed it to transform my thinking yet.

When Allyson and I went to my parents' for our weekly visit on Monday, I asked Mom how she and Dad had managed during the recession in the 70s. Working in construction, Dad was out of work for extended periods, and they had five children to support! "How did you keep from going crazy with worry?" I asked.

"I just had to pray and trust God to provide," she answered.

And that is what God did, through the the church, family, and friends--and even strangers. There was the woman at church who gave Mom a stack of clothes that got my sister Amy through the school year. There was the man at the farmer's market who always heaped the bushel baskets of vegetables to overflowing. There were the dresses that my grandmother, an excellent seamstress, made for me and my sisters. There was the car that Uncle Max gave them. There was the man at church who loaned them money for a car repair. My sister Melody had been making two trips to drive everyone to church, and this is how he knew they needed help. Mom and Dad had planned to wait for six weeks for their income tax return, so this was a big blessing.

It couldn't have been easy for my parents, but what surprises me is that I have very little memory of those financial difficulties. Of course, I was very young, only six years old when we had to leave Indiana in order for Dad to find construction work. But I do remember our life there, and what I recall is a loving, happy home where we all had fun together. I remember spending my days with Mom, going everywhere with her. I remember playing games and reading stories. I remember snapping mountains of green beans on the porch, which we ate for months and months, so that the older kids said they didn't care if they ever saw a green bean again. (I was so picky that I subsisted on peanut butter and breakfast cereal, so I didn't eat any green beans myself.)

Starting Our Life In Texas
Our first Christmas in Texas, we had to buy an artificial tree and all the decorations; when they'd packed the U-Haul trailer, the ornaments had not made the cut. All we could afford was a wooden ornament kit that we had to paint. Sitting around the table together and painting those simple bells and rocking horses is one of my favorite memories, and we never would have experienced that if they could have just bought a few boxes of "fancy" ornaments. They lasted for years, and in better times, they reminded us of that first Christmas.

Amy, Emily, Me - Texas c. 1977

I'm thankful for the difficulties God allowed us to experience. I learned what really matters in life--and it isn't material possessions. I learned to be responsible with money and to get by with less. I learned to trust in God, not a job.

For some reason, I've been wanting to shelter my own kids from these lessons. I've always loved the passage in Matthew 6, but I never thought I might REALLY have to worry about what we would eat. I pray that God will give me the courage to withstand whatever trials the future may hold for my family, and that he will develop my character and strengthen my faith.

One thing I do know: God is with me always. When I catch myself worrying, he brings scriptures to my mind. I was walking through the dairy aisle at Walmart last week, and I felt my chest tightening as anxious thoughts attacked. Suddenly, I heard the 23rd Psalm in my mind--as plainly as if someone were reading it to me. I heard it in the King James version, beloved from my childhood: "The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul."

I love the idea of God MAKING me lie down. It's like when Allyson is beside herself with rage and frustration, and I know all she needs is a good nap. I make her lie down, and when she wakes up she is her usual sunny self. I'm so glad God knows when I need to lie down, too.

My Mother's Strength

On Sunday, my family met for incredibly delicious brisket at my brother Rick's house. When we were too stuffed to move, we all sat around reminiscing. My mom's sisters Judy and Mary were visiting from Indiana, along with Mary's husband Dave. The stories we told were familiar, but having my aunts there provided another perspective and filled in a few more details. One story in particular moved me to tears....

My aunts and uncle got to talking about how sweet Rick (Ricky, then) was as a boy. They said he was always talking (and lisping), and he looked so cute with his little glasses. Aunt Mary recalled one thing he said when my dad was late getting home: "Was you in a hole?" Apparently my mom had remarked that she didn't know what was keeping him; he must have fallen in a hole.

Monica, Dolores (Mom), Melody

Monica, Dolores, Ricky, Melody

Mary also related a bittersweet memory about my sister Michele's homecoming. Michele was born with many severe birth defects including microcephaly (a small head and underdeveloped brain), a cleft lip, and a cleft palate. Before my parents brought her home, they tried to prepare Rick and Melody. (I wasn't born yet.) They told them that Michele didn't look like other babies, and I guess Rick took that to mean she wasn't pretty like other babies.

When Mom showed him the baby, Rick (age 6) said, "Oh, Mommy! She has such pretty eyes!" She really did have pretty eyes, and this simple appreciation for the beauty in a difficult situation brought tears to the adults' eyes. My own eyes filled with tears when Mary told the story, and when I saw tears in my dad's eyes, I almost broke into sobs. It's hard to understand how sorrow can seem so fresh after 46 years, and how I can feel grief for a sister I never knew.

Mom shared a bit about the experience. It was hard to listen, but I think even now it helps her to talk about what happened. Here's what happened....

Losing Monica
When my sister Monica Sue was five years old, she fell against a license plate and suffered a severe gash to her skull. She healed from the injury, but she later developed a brain tumor on the scar. By the time the tumor was diagnosed, she was in critical condition. My mom stayed with her at Riley Children's Hospital in Indianapolis (about three hours from their home) for several weeks.

Monica Sue, Age 5

On her sixth birthday--June 27, 1962--Monica underwent surgery to remove the tumor. Initially, Mom and Dad had wanted to wait until the next day, but they listened to the doctors' urging and allowed the surgery on her birthday. After that, she suffered continually until she finally lapsed into a coma and died on July 18.

Understandably, Mom fell into a profound depression. She was given strong tranquilizers to help her cope with her grief and the demands of raising two other small children. At the time, she told her family doctor that she thought she was pregnant, but he didn't listen. He told her that the delusion of pregnancy is a common reaction to dealing with the loss of a child.

More Heartaches
She really was pregnant, and the medication caused severe defects. Michele Sue was born six months after Monica died, on January 10, 1963. This was, of course, before the days of sonograms, so Michele's condition was a devastating surprise.

The doctor told Mom she shouldn't even hold her baby because she wouldn't be able to keep her. He advised placing her in an institution immediately. Mom started crying and couldn't stop. A nurse later came in and showed her how to feed Michele with a special nipple. She told Mom and Dad to take their baby home if they wanted to.

That's what they did, but life was very difficult. Due to her underdeveloped brain, Michele never slept more than an hour at a time. She also cried incessantly, and feeding was a terrible ordeal because it literally choked her.

After a couple of months, Mom just couldn't manage it any longer. She was unable to sleep, and she had no energy to care for Melody and Rick. She and Dad reluctantly admitted Michele to Riley's Children's Hospital in Indianapolis. The hospital then transferred Michele to a day care home in Noblesville.

They were able to visit her every other Sunday. She never did develop beyond a newborn state, and she was sickly. She finally died of pneumonia at the age of eight months.

A couple of years later, Melody nearly died from a ruptured appendix. Mom begged God not to take another child from her, and Melody recovered. The doctor told her afterward that he hadn't expected her to survive; she had peritonitis, and people didn't usually recover from that.

God's Grace
No matter how many times I hear these stories, I am amazed at my mother's strength. I can't imagine going through what she suffered and surviving. Mom never lost her faith. In fact, her faith grew through these trials.

She and Dad had grown up in church, but they had drifted away during their early marriage. After the loss of Monica, Mom was despondent for months. It was through the love of a friend, Louella, that Mom began to heal. Here is an excerpt from Mom and Dad's autobiography, which I am currently transcribing and editing:

In those days, they didn’t have support groups for people that were grieving. But I had a friend who came over, and she said, “I’m coming over. I’ve been praying and asking the Lord what I could do for you. He impressed on me that I need to come over and get you and take you to my house, and you can’t do anything but talk about your child while we’re there. And if you try to talk about anything else, I’m going to make you talk about your child.”

Then I felt like it was God sending her, and to this day, I know it was God sending her. She did just what she said. If I got off the subject, she’d get me right back on. That helped me heal. That did more for me than what anybody’s prayers did. It was all because she was willing as a Christian to pray and ask the Lord what she could do to help me. So I always felt a warm spot for her because she had five of her own children, but she still had time for me. It helped me to move on, or at least to deal with the grief that was inside, that I didn’t know how to get rid of.

God chose to bless Mom and Dad with three more children: Amy (1964), me (1970), and Emily (1974). At first, she was afraid that she would lose us, too, but eventually she relaxed and enjoyed mothering her five children. She had always wanted to have five children, and she got her wish.

I'm not sure why I wanted to share these stories, but I just felt I needed to. My mother is an amazing woman, and I wanted to share her with my (small) world.