The Days of Faith

 

It's been a hard past few days. My sweet Grandfather Stone is in his last days. And it hasn't been an easy road for him or any of us. Having watching the suffering of my grandmother just a few years ago, it feels confusing that both of them should face such end-of-life trial after a lifetime of humble service to Him.

Yet. God is still good. God is still faithful.

After receiving call from my mother that he had been given a 12-24 hour window by Hospice, I traveled down Monday evening. I am so very glad I went. The following is an email I sent to a friend:


I was not expecting my grandfather to recognize me and the 1st day and a half he didn't. But Tuesday evening and Wednesday morning he was unaccountably alert, completely recognized me and I could tell understood what I was saying to him. I told him I loved him, read scripture and when I asked if he wanted me to pray with him he nodded his head. Before I left yesterday, I heard him say to me, "love you" and then "bye, hon." It's what he always, always said to me.

Here's something equally amazing. The reason hospice gave a 12-24 hr. alert was because of some mottling of skin on his feet. This, apparently, is a definitive sign that the end is near. At almost 24 hours, exactly, he begins to become more alert and a few more hours later, the mottling is gone. Hospice, the nurse, and the caregivers have never heard of this happening. My Dad arrived home from a 20-hour car trip from Arizona that evening and my brother gets in today.

When I was talking to my husband on the phone he was telling me that at lunchtime, Jane, our six year-old, was praying for "Great-Father" (as the kids call him) and asked God that he would let him live just a little longer. The timeline of her prayer and my grandfather's inexplicable rally coincide. The prayers of a six-year old -- arrows straight to the Lord.

I said my goodbyes to my grandfather and I am at peace with that. It is the Lord's timing when he takes this sweet man home, but it is very soon. I am both joyful and heartbroken. You know how these things go.

Grandad has run his race, as Hebrews says, and run it well. Is there more for him to learn? More room for his faith to be refined? Is that why his time here continues? No. I don't think that's it. This trial God is allowing him to endure is teaching all of us and refining our faith. Grandad's faithfulness is allowing him to be used for the Lord's purposes up until the very last minute when the Lord calls him home. Just like Grandma. What a legacy.

And this is how God is good.

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith ..."

Hebrews 12:2

Rome, The Day We Wandered

 

Sometimes "wandering" is a more pleasant term than "lost." But getting lost isn't altogether a bad thing, either. Moments for tired legs, and magnificence-over-saturation, yes. But also for pretty street signs, and hand-holding on cobblestones.

The Ol' Girl Gets a Makeover

 My ironing board was a mess. I think I've had it since college, and in recent years it has been like ironing on metal with a thin, slick cover of canvas. Padding all but gone and the icky blue cover ... not like it was ever top quality in the first place.

So, armed with a surprising burst of industriousness, an old vintage sheet that I forgot I had and some quilting batting that materialized by magic (where did it come from?),  I spiffed up the sorry ol' girl.

Unroll the batting on the floor and flip the ironing board atop. Cut around the ironing board leaving a few extra inches so the batting can wrap around. Ditto for the fabric. Then, run a quick seam around the fabric to create a little pocket around the edge in which to run some string through (Tie the string to a big safety-pin, and run the safety-pin through ... much easier).

Now you can place/wrap the batting and fabric on the ironing board and cinch it all up tight with the string. Tie it off and shove the loose strings up under somewhere and tell yourself you'll trim them later, knowing that you'll forget and never will. Voila!

(ps-I took this photo while sitting. Uh-huh, that's right, I was ironing while sitting! Have you all been doing this for years and forgot to clue me in? It's like I never realized I could use it at any height other than tip-top. A definite "shazaam!" moment for me.)

A Provençal Rose

Aigaliers, France

Outside in the breakfast courtyard, where even the sandy-blonde gravel is elegant, the roses bloom. Whenever I travel outside my little daily sphere, I am always amazed to find myself surrounded by beauty and sights that are all that I dreamed of. As though, surely, my imagination must have run ahead of itself and concocted such possibilities.

But then there are the roses and the pretty gravel and I pinch myself that it's all true.

Somebody Who Loves Me Built Me Something ...

An eight-foot picnic table to gussy up and look at cookbooks with my girls. And can I mention that he built it in one day?? I had no idea such a thing was possible. One more reason for me to be amazed by Pops. He makes me happy.

Switzerland: Village Architecture

Is it not the Switzerland of your dreams? I find it so heartening that while you may find train tracks and electric warning signs slice through ... the charm and history of centuries old remain.

Switzerland: Springtime in the Alps

We are at home once more! After a week of groggy recovery, we are now back into the swing of home-life and happily reliving our trip through shared family memories. One of the truly great gifts of travel, I do believe. And so, the recollections continue to keep the trip alive ...

The day after we had our Swiss Family Adventure and right before Jane sat on a huge pile of stinging nettles (!!), we had a morning gallivant on the hillside of the Swiss village, Reckingen-Gluringen.

 The village you see in the distance is the village we stayed in. Tiny and lovely. The main road would shut down when the sheep or the cattle came through and we would hang out of our cottage windows and watch as though it were the most marvelous sight ever.

 After a glorious, but very busy tour of Italy, making grass whistles and doing a whole lot of nothing in the Swiss Alps was heaven.

Although apparently not yet having enough auto-adventure, right after our wildflower frolic Pops did take us on the most harrowing car-ride ever up the side of the mountain we were soon to encounter. Have you ever seen The Long-Long Trailer with Lucille Ball and Dezi Arnaz? There is a perilous scene where they skitter along a teeny mountain-edge road with sheer rock on one side and sheer cliff on the other. Take away the trailer, add three terrified children and swap Mt. Whitney for the Swiss Alps ... and it's basically the same scene. It took collective tears to convince Pops that this was not fun and me getting out of the car giving braking hand-signals to allow us to turn around without pitching off the cliff of doom.

I'm sweating just thinking about it.


But at the point we took these photos we were blissfully unaware of what was to come. And those are the moments in life to relish ... whether home or abroad.

European Adventures: Conclusions and Contentment

Our last full day in our Provençal farm home. Plans for photos in the poppy fields and dinner in Uzes. Tomorrow we pack-up, head into Arles for a look-around and settle in at the airport hotel 'til we rouse for an early morning flight on Wednesday. Mixed feelings about coming home! 

The trip has been more than we expected in many ways. Happy and thankful to have shared all with my little family. It's the memories that, I believe, will be the biggest treasure of all.

Merci. Merci.

Provence: To Revel and Muse

We've been in Provence for 2 days now. It's is so unbelievably beautiful here. Everything about everything is my most favorite ever. I went out shopping in Uzes yesterday and on my way home, driving through the countryside ... can I confess? I got all misted up. Not a full-on messy cry, but definite foggy-eyes. So, so happy to be here.

The children are swimming everyday (yesterday, four individual times) and eating bread and pastries to their heart's content. Last night we went to a "Fête du Pois Chiche" ... a "Festival of the Chickpea." (More on that later ... live music and masks ... like Zorro!) We even made friend with another couple who is staying in the same farm house as us and we are going to swap evening of kid watch. Pops and I get to go out to dinner alone tonight!

Interesting how the initial part of our trip, as grand as it was, required such exertion. Here ... now ... it feels effortless. Perhaps we appreciate it more? Perhaps I've learned to manage expectations better? Perhaps it is Provence? Perhaps it is just God's grace? For all the reasons, we are thankful and reveling in it.

As a side note, three of my dear friends are currently going through deep challenges with health, children, jobs. It is strange, to be here, and know of their days. And yet, helpless in myself to lend aid, I can pray. Prayer is the great unifier over great divides. In this big, wide world ... God is bigger yet.

Florence: A Peek at Our Watchtower

Looking back through some of our pictures has been so heart-warming for me. Totally putting some of the tired/worn-out/worried business into perspective. I am in a state of gratitude for all we are doing. Every bit of it.

Here you see a series of photos from our stay in the medieval watchtower (built in 1124!) outside of Florence. It was every bit of wonderful we had hoped for. And this is just a peek! Honestly, I can still hardly believe it myself.