Memorial Box Monday-10-Speed

A few posts ago, I told you about the wonderful memories I have of Christmas.  I want to tell you a story about that.  I'm including it in my Memorial Box because, well, because I want to and there are no rules.  This was a situation where Jesus blessed me with parents that wanted to keep the innocence and magic of Christmas alive for me as long as possible. 

I was probably in junior high this one particular Christmas.  Sixth grade, maybe.  I remember not really "believing" Santa existed, but wanting to hold on to that excitement and idea that he just might.  I went to bed on Christmas Eve.  My bedroom was just off the living room.  I remember at one point waking up to go to the restroom.  As I walked through the living room, I looked at the tree.  It was so pretty, all lit up.  (Side note:  ever since I was little, I would sleep out on the couch or floor at least one night during the holiday season so I could fall asleep with the Christmas tree lights on.  I'd look over the tree and try to memorize what that year's tree looked like, and reflect on the year, etc.  I STILL do this.)

Anyway, my parents were nestled all snug in their beds and everything was quiet.  I checked out the loot under the tree and realized it was the same that was there when I went to bed.  "Santa" hadn't come yet. 

I went on to the restroom and when I returned (guessing about three minutes later), there was a pink and gray 10-speed bike propped up behind/beside the tree!  I stood there and gawked at the bike. That bike had NOT just been there.  My parents WERE asleep.  I checked!  Where in the world? 

The next day I retold the story to my parents.  They just shook their heads and smiled.  They claimed they did NOT put the bike there.  They reminded me I had seen them asleep. 

Now, the rational adult in me is like, "Uh, Rett.  They lied.  They put that there while you were in the restroom." or "It was there, you just didn't see it."   But the child in me hangs on to what my mom always said  "Santa exists inside you.  It's Christmas spirit that counts."  Therefore, this time, I'm listening to that little child.  Santa brought me that bike.  It was a magical Christmas that came at a time where I could have simply stopped believing.  My parents chose to help me hold onto that magic, even only for one more year.

Do you have any stories like that?  Magical moments? 

Or, what is one favorite family tradition you have?  We have many many things, but I'll share two quick ones.  Come Dec. 1, I'm allowed to ask my mom for a hint about one of my gifts.  I can get one hint per day.  The thing is, my mom's hints are always WAY out there, but DEAD on at the same time.  They're riddleish.  SO FUN!  I remember one was, "It goes around and around but never stops."  It was a watch!  Mom, when you read this, um, you owe me seven hints!  Hahaha, oh wait, I KNOW what I'm getting!  Darn!

The second tradition is that my dad always plays Santa at our family gatherings.  He dons the red hat and is the one to distribute the gifts to everyone else.  He never gets to open his own  until everyone else is done.  That says a lot about him.  Everyone else enjoy it first...he can wait.

I LOVE MY PARENTS! 

Now, tell me about your magical memories or traditions!

Memorial Box Monday--Barbie KitchenTable

Reread the title.  Huh?  Barbie Kitchen Table?  Yep, you read that right. 

This week, I'll add a Barbie sized kitchen table.  Why, you ask?  Let me fill you in.

Growing up, I was spoiled.  I am the baby of our family.  I have two older sisters and and older brother.  My mom had me later in life (YES, I was a accident, but that's ok, I'm still her favorite!  HA!  We'll see if that evokes some comments from the family!).  So being the baby, with no older siblings in the house, I got to go with my mom everywhere she went.  Time alone with her.  It was wonderful!

We often found ourselves at my aunt Connie's house.  Let me give you some background on my mom and her sister.  They are both loud, loving, laughing women.  They are NOT afraid to tell you their opinion (so THAT's where I get it!).  They would (and still will) listerally give you the shirts right off their backs if you would need them.  Neither hold on to material possessions and are of the mindset that if they have it, and you want it or think it would look better in your home, take it! 

I love my aunt's laugh too.  It's infectious.  I love nothing more than to try and get a giggle out of her.  It's just something that makes my heart warm.

Well, when we'd go over to my aunt's, my cousin Tiffany was often there.  She is older than me (but only by months) and way wiser than me.  Where I was spoiled, she had to work for what she had.  She is so much more self-diciplined than I am.  She taught me a lot about life and about being independent.  She was so brave (she'd climb under the park tunnels) while I was a wimp (I'd blame the white shirt I was wearing for not climbing through them).  And we look as different as night and day.  She has dark hair and features, and is thin!  I'm blonde with fair features, and a chubb-o!

But this is where the kitchen table comes into play.  I'm not even sure if Tiffany would remember this or not, but there were many times when we were together at Aunt Connie's and we would sit under the kitchen table.  We would sit there while my mom and aunt (her grandma and aunt) would sit at the table drinking coffee and solving the problems of the universe.  We would take our sodas or toys under that table and sit for hours.  We got shooed from there a time or two, but mostly we were free to just be there.  Nestled securely under the women we most admired and loved. 

When we were under that table, all was right with the world.  We were untouchable.  The problems (jobs, family issues, etc.) that were discussed above the table never reached our safe world below.  We just knew we were safe.

Recently, my aunt had a scare.  A heart issue came up and we held our breath while we prayed to God to be merciful.  He was. 

While in the hospital, I called my aunt to check on her.  She was in good spirits and laughed and laughed with me on the phone.  But, it was during this call something more important transpired.  I was able to talk to Aunt Connie about God.  She told me she had been doing some serious communication with Him.  She said though things aren't always perfect, she does have a personal relationship with Him!

WHOO HOOO!  I know I'm an emotional/hormonal wreck, but when she said those words, I wanted to shout and cry all at the same time!  I now know, without a doubt, I will see my aunt in Heaven.  (Though, trust me, Heaven is NOT ready for her yet!)

Therefore, I'm putting in a little Barbie kitchen table.  For it was under that table, I felt loved, safe, and cared for.  It was under that table where I learned about life.  And it was under that table my love grew for my aunt and cousin.

I know this is an extremely personal entry.  And I never asked permission from mom, Tiffany, or Aunt Connie.  But, friends, I wanted to post this to remind you to NOT waste opportunities.  I was a nervous wreck talking to her, because I wanted to broach the subject.  But I didn't need to be.  God opened up the door! 

And because of this heart issue and latest hospital stay, sweet Abby has been asking about and praying for Aunt Connie often!  She is so loved!!!

What did you put in YOUR box this week?  Not sure what a Memorial Box Monday post is?  CLICK HERE!

Memorial Box Monday-the chapstick

Once upon a time, there was a little girl. This little girl was blessed with a set of parents that were together and in love. She was also blessed with two sisters, and a brother whom she loved so much. This lucky girl also had four amazing grandparents. Unfortunately, the little girl only got the chance to really know two of them. One was her maternal grandfather (Grandpa Schankel) and the other, her paternal grandmother (Grandma Sadler). Both were so special. Her grandpa would always yell, "Anybody?" when coming for a visit. He gave her a harmonica and promised she talked fast enough to become an auctioneer. Her grandma was a gifted seamstress. Her home in Florida and Indiana were both so inviting, and she made delicious yeast rolls! They both loved their family deeply.

When this little girl became a teenager, her grandmother became ill. She went into the hospital for surgery in a town over 60 miles away. This teenager knew she wanted to see her grandmother before her surgery. She felt SO strongly she needed to see her that she argued with her parents when they told her she didn't need to drive all that way. She bickered and bickered with them until they agreed to let her drive as long as she took a friend. This friend was her cousin (and had even less driving experience than she did!) But the two mustered up the courage to drive to the hospital.

While there, the teen and her cousin visited with her grandmother. They ran down to the giftshop to purchase a few items to cheer her up, and a much requested chapstick because the hospital air dried out her lips. While there, the teenage girl had the chance to love on her grandmother and tell her how much she meant to her. She thanked her for making her prom dresses, miscellaneous outfits, her quilt, and special Humpty Dumpty that she loved as an infant and treasured even more now.

The teenager was able to hold her grandmother's hand and caress the aged, tired fingers. After all these years, and after all the hard work, her hands were so smooth and soft. The teen noticed how some of her fingers were identical to her grandmothers. A genetic trait she would pass on.
It was a treasured time.

The next day, the teen's grandmother did not survive surgery. It was a painful time for her entire family, but the joy in the teen's heart was immense. See, the teen knew she'd be reunited with her grandmother one day. She was a believer! And she knew that her visit the day before was the peace that she'd need during this time.

Obviously, that little girl was me. I never truly appreciated my grandparents when I was younger. I'm so thankful for that last time I got to spend with my grandmother. And I'm thankful that I have chapstick in my Memorial Box to remind me to fight for those things that are important. It also reminds me to treasure those around me, for our time here is short.

I'm doing something now that reminds me SO MUCH of my grandma. I am sewing. On Mother's Day I borrowed my mother-in-love's (great term, Linny) sewing machine determined to teach myself how to sew. Since then, I have sewn the girls each a purse and wallet, and each of them a dress. (I'll add pictures later) When the sewing machine gets humming...I see, feel, and smell my grandma. She's a part of my past that I want to incorporate into my future. I'll take a bit from each of my grandparents...and for this I'm thankful. I can't wait to share these stories with my children.

Do you have special memories of your grandparents?

Memorial Box Monday

A good friend of mine, Linny, does Memorial Box Monday posts on her blog A Place Called Simplicity. Here's how she explains it...

"The purpose of each Memorial Box Monday post is to remind myself and others of God's great faithfulness, His powerful provision and His Unexpected Gifts in each of our lives.

It is not a sign of super spirituality to have a Memorial Box. It is something that anyone who has seen God work in their lives can do. There are no rules....just sharing the story of something recent or long ago about how God showed up in your family (or just to you if you are single) to meet a need, rescue, protect, heal, or even give a surprise you didn't expect!"

So this got me thinking that I need to do a Memorial Box Monday post. But I'm overwhelmed. I mean, seriously. God has been so good. Where do I even begin? And besides that, the things I think represent or symbolize God's goodness are HUGE! They'd never fit in a cabinet! Guess I'll have to get creative! (Settle in, it's a long one)

Ok, a little lesson in language:Kairos
This word is one of the most important words to me, ever. According to Wikipedia, ancient Greeks had two words for time...chronos and kairos. Chronos means sequential time, while kairos is, "a time in between, a moment of undetermined period of time in which something special happens."

In the New Testament, kairos means "the appointed time in the purpose of God." Both definitions essentially point to time that cannot be measured. This word came to life when a good friend, and pastor shared about kairos vs. chronos one Sunday morning in church. Probably one of the most powerful sermons ever!

I have two symbols of kairos...a drawing and a watch. Let me explain the watch. Waaaay back when Tony and I got married (10 years ago) I still had to do my student teaching for school. So we were married in March, I did my student teaching that fall, graduated in December, took a teaching assistant position for the remainder of the year and then started my search for my first real teaching job. People would ask me left and right if I had any leads on a job. May passed...no luck. June...no luck. July...no luck. And then August. Never once did I freak out. (For those of you who know me, this is amazing!) I just kept telling everyone that it would work out. No worries. Just faith in God. (Tony on the other hand was a nervous wreck, I'm sure because he's the financial guy!) Just a few weeks before school started, I got a call about a position in the district I did my student teaching/teaching assistant positions in. A perfect fit! At a perfect time!

It was also during this time that I stopped wearing my watch. I can't remember what specifically led me to do it. Maybe it was a sermon. Maybe it was a story I read. I just vaguely remember someone referencing the need to look at a watch non-stop and how was that living? Truly living? And I'll admit. I would get hung up on the time surrounding the experience, and not the experience itself. Therefore, my first symbol of time, of God's timing, is a watch. But my watch is a little different. The face of the watch is covered up with black electrical tape. I don't need to focus on MY timing of things. Just God's timing. Kairos.

When Tony and I were exploring options about how to add to our family (biological, adoption, fostering) we looked into international adoption through Ch*na because the timeline looked reasonable and the program looked stable. We were told after we submitted our dossier to expect an eight to nine month wait. There were those timelines again! So we logged in and waited. And waited. And waited. Each month the finish line would be stretched out. (NOT complaining though...the wait is NOW is extreme!)

During the wait, we experienced lots of joys, friendships, trips, excitement, sadness, longing, depression, confusion, etc. God heard the cries of our hearts. He knew we wanted to be parents badly! He knew we had waited years by this point. He knew we were ready!

Well, my friends, as the saying goes...hindsight is 20/20.

During the wait, a good friend of mine, Sarah said she had a surprise for me. She said she had a vision one morning and shared that vision with a friend of ours, Shannon. She said the picture she was given was directly from God. Shannon decided to turn God's picture into a reality. Shannon sketched a beautiful picture of Jesus's hands holding a baby and had it framed. This is the picture you see at the top of the post. It's gorgeous and now hangs in our hallway! They gave that picture to us during one of our lowest lows, and I bawled while accepting it. There was God...my Father...holding my baby. So safe. So loved. Kairos. HIS timeline. Not mine.

Fast forward. I have looked at that picture a thousand times. While we continuted to wait, I would pray for my baby (didn't know about twins at the time) every time I passed it! I would look at it with joy, and thanksgiving, and with longing. Once the girls came home, it continued to hang in our hall. I still looked at it each time I went into our room, or the nursery, but never gave it much thought...until one day. I stopped to look at it again. As I was examining it, I looked at Shannon's signature. Then I looked at the date. I know I gasped outloud when I read it. Shannon had drawn that picture the month our girls were born. Upon further investigation, it was discovered that Shannon had drawn that image the WEEK the girls were born. Did you read that, my friends? The same week. I cried all over again a whole new set of tears. My God loved me enough to send my friends this picture of Him holding my baby.

I know you're wondering, baby? But don't you have twins? Yes, I do. But I believe wholeheartedly that the picture God gave Sarah is of him holding Abby. You see...not long after she was born, she got very very sick. Very sick. Like a "praise Jesus she's with us and not with Him" sick. And little did I know that during that time, God was nestling our baby Abby in His arms.

Kairos. QUALITY of time, not QUANTITY of time. I know it's easy to tell someone, "It's all in God's hands." or "It's His plan." or "In His time." But you know what. It's the truth.