With All My Love

There might never have been 2 people who loved each other more but who were more different than my Grandma and my Papa. Whereas my Grandma chose to live her life on center stage, my shy Papa preferred to be in the audience. Grandma’s distinct laughter and voice could be heard across the room but Papa’s words and chuckles were soft. Grandma was a fearless evangelist and remarkable hostess. Papa was consistent, full of integrity, and generous.  

With encouragement from his older brother Bob, he overcame his shyness to ask the foxy young lady from his church’s young adults group to the USC Homecoming Dance. Who knew that her ‘yes’ would lead to more than 50 years of a committed marriage? Perhaps there was still a certain amount of shyness he had to overcome to propose a little while later, but he was certain of his decision. In a letter that was discovered a short time after my Grandma died, and that was written to her before she accepted his proposal, he confessed, “I am positive of whom I seek. To me she is as true, as real, positive and certain as it is true that the sun rises in the morning and sets at night, as sure as there are stars and a moon above, as sure as there is life and death, and happiness and love. For to me she is happiness, love and life itself.”

On their wedding day he wrote: “To my dearest Dorothy-the moon and the stars are ringing this night, and they sing of the love for you forever.”

  

While it surprised me to hear such passionate words from my quiet and reserved Papa about my Grandma, his love for her was obvious to me in the way he treated her. Sometimes someone doesn’t have to say a lot about people and things they love, you just know by their consistent actions over a very long period of time. Such was the way with my Papa. But letters do help, especially when it comes to someone as soft spoken as him.

And Grandma was not the only one to receive eloquent letters from Papa. In 1995 I was assigned a 7^th grade writing project where I was supposed to write letters to someone I wanted to get to know better over the course of a year. Although I had grown up around and even lived with my grandparents, I still felt like there was a lot I wanted to know about my Papa. I was thrilled when he agreed and he was a very faithful pen pal. He sent me various treasures like his high school senior portrait and a menu from a military Christmas dinner he attended in Japan in 1949. He signed each letter with “Your loving pen pal”.  Although I can very clearly remember the sound of my Papa’s voice, I do not remember many things he said aloud, even before his stroke. The letters my Papa sent me put words to some of the things I already knew he loved.

For example, I know he loved USC football because every Saturday during the fall he would tune in to the game. He was a good sport about ending up with 3 Bruin grandchildren. When I wrote and asked him about his hopes for the New Year he responded, “My first hope for 1996 was realized January 1 when U.S.C. beat Northwestern in the Rose Bowl. How sweet it was.”

I know he loved cats by the way their personalities made him chuckle. We grew up hearing stories of his favorite kitties and all the mischief they got themselves into.  He wrote one of his letters from my aunt’s house. “We are now at Kelli’s” he said. “Peyton is sitting on my lap as I write. Walter is upstairs sleeping. Kelli says that she thinks she came across her long lost cat (Whitney). It seems he has been living a few blocks away in another household. She has no intention to reclaim him at this point because of a possible compatibility problem with Peyton and Walter.”

I know he loved classical music. “Thank you for inviting us to your band concert,” he wrote. “It was terrific. The Clarinet Section sounded particularly good. What a splendid performance.” I picture him shuffling down the hallway in their house on Menlo Court in Walnut Creek on a sun-filled Saturday afternoon. He’s just completed tending to the yard work with Grandma. Now he’s dressed in a soft flannel, faded jeans and brown loafer slippers. He makes his way to the family room, selects a record that he puts on the turn table, slowly eases into the couch and leans his head back, relishing the relaxing melodies. Beethoven’s 9^th was a popular selection Handel’s Messiah was his favorite at this time of year, and I think of him when I hear it.

I know he loved puzzles. I can see him carefully lifting a piece, examining it closely, and then scanning the table methodically to see where it would fit. There seemed to always be a puzzle at various stages of completion at my grandparents’ house.

He loved vanilla ice cream and milk chocolate. One time my mom had hid the remaining pieces of a Symphony chocolate bar in the cabinet in Grandma’s kitchen. She was surprised when she returned to find the cabinet empty and asked Papa if he knew anything about the missing chocolate. He smiled and shrugged his shoulders but the next day there was a king-sized chocolate Symphony bar waiting on the counter.

I know he loved history by the thick books he kept on his bookshelves and the documentaries he used to watch, so intently tuned in on each detail. In one letter he wrote about one of his historical heroes, Abraham Lincoln. “Do you know that Edward Everett (a noted orator) was designated as the main speaker at the dedication of the Gettysburg National Cemetery in November 1863. Lincoln was invited as an afterthought to make a few remarks. After Everett’s two-hour oration, Lincoln gave his famous address lasting only three minutes. Lincoln thought his address was a failure, as did the press. Only a few recognized the true magnitude of the words at the time.” He continued in another letter, “Lincoln possessed great power as commander-in-chief of the Union and yet displayed uncommon humanity, truth, justice and pity.” He certainly admired Lincoln.

I know he loved oceans and waterfalls and mountains.  “We just returned from our annual May trip to Yosemite,” he wrote. “The temperature was mild and the waterfalls were roaring. We stayed at Yosemite Lodge and the balcony of our room faced Yosemite Falls. A tremendous amount of water was spewing forth from the cliff above the valley floor. The view of the cascading water was spectacular. I hiked from Happy Isles to the top of Nevada Falls. Vernal and Nevada Falls accentuated the power of the Merced River as it finds its way down from the high backcountry of Yosemite National Park.”

I know he loved his country by his service in the military and I know he loved his church by his years of attendance and participation.

Above all, I know he loved God and his family.

 “I agree with your view as to the “greatest/most significant event in history,” he wrote. “Certainly Jesus did it all. He gave us the perfect example for life.”

Papa loved and respected his Danish mother and his German father, and was so proud of his two older brothers. He loved his three daughters, my mother and aunts. He loved my cousins and my sisters and me. He loved attending our sports games and performances and graduations. His face lit up when he saw us. And a huge grin spread across his face when he greeted his first great granddaughter Claire for the first time.

 A year and a half ago, my sister Melanie and I were visiting my Papa and unfortunately during the visit he had to be taken to the ER for a medical issue. We went with him. At one point Melanie had to step out and so it was just Papa and I in the ER room together. I wasn’t sure what his recovery would be like from this particular hospital stay and so I decided to tell him a secret that up until that point I had only told my husband. I told him that I had just found out the week before that I was pregnant and that he could be expecting a second great grandbaby, but he wasn’t allowed to tell anyone yet because it was so early. He was in wincing pain but his eyes glittered and he smiled and promised with a nod. Normandie Mae was born this past January, named for Papa’s brother Ray, my other pen pal from when I was little. A few months ago she got to meet her sweet great Papa. Although his health was failing, he grinned to meet her and stroked her shoulder and held her hand. She’ll grow up hearing stories of my beloved Papa just like I grew up hearing stories of his parents.

In some of his last conscious moments on earth, he was surrounded by his three daughters, either in person or over the phone. They recounted their favorite memories with him, asked him to give hugs to their mom and extended family when he greeted them in heaven. And although he was very weak and so close to the end, the last words that crossed his lips summed up all he did for his family. “I love you,” he said.

As eloquent as his letters were to me, mine to him were far too cheesy. If only I could re-write some of those letters, what questions I would ask him and what things I would tell him like how special he is to me as opposed to the score of the softball game I played in that day. But even his responses to my cheesy questions gave me such precious insight into his heart. For some reason I asked him what kind of tree he likes best. It was fall at the time.  He responded:

“I like trees that provide shade in the summer like our Silver Maple in the backyard and the three Ash trees that protect our front from the afternoon sun. These trees do shed a tremendous number of leaves from September through December and you know who has to rack them up for disposal. Even so, this reminds me that the days are getting shorter and the nights are getting longer and in a few months new life will again appear on the trees to announce that longer and warmer days are ahead.”

Although we will no longer experience the warmth of his smile and the preciousness in his eyes, I am so glad that his long nights on earth are over and that he’s moved into the never ending warmth of heaven. The thought of him reunited with Grandma and his family and our God soothes the pain of his absence. One time when I was visiting him and Grandma down in Arizona, we went to the gym and with Dexter’s help, Papa got right in the pool and despite his handicap, began jogging laps, helped by the buoyancy of the water. He had such a content smile on his face and I felt as though I was witnessing a glimpse into the restoration of his body I love picturing now.

In my last letter back in 1996 I asked him if he had any hopes for me.

“I would hope that you would continue to grow in your life of faith,” he wrote. “In a mere four years we will enter a new century and it is your generation that will soon take the baton. The 20^th century has been tumultuous, but I am ever confident that you and your generation will make a difference for good in the 21^st century.

With all my love,

Papa”

Through his steady life of integrity he set an example in our family for faith, commitment, and love. I asked my sister how she would sum up Papa. “He was a quiet hero,” she said. "He stayed true to one woman. He worked hard, provided for his family, and saved well. He raised three beautiful daughters and served his country and his church. He maintained a graceful attitude despite a debilitating stroke while remaining faithful to God until the end." What more praise could one hope for at the end of life?  

I miss him now, as I do Grandma. But the two of them, each in their own way, gave us the gift of their faith in God so that we can be confident of seeing them again when our Savior calls us home. 

Until then, I could not be more grateful for having had such a sweet and loving Papa.

Nor wanting, nor wasting

A few years ago Ben and I moved into a tiny, quaint apartment so we could be closer to my school and pay cheaper rent. When it was just the two of us (4 if you count the cats), this apartment was perfect. High ceilings with fans. Huge windows letting in natural light. Warm and cozy in the winter, easy to cool in the summer. Now that a tiny person has filled our hearts with her big gummy smile and our apartment with more stuff than we thought possible for such a wee one, our space feels crammed and tight. Each day is an opportunity for practicing gratitude for the space we do have rather than coveting a larger abode.

One of the first things I noticed when we first moved to our new street were the bells.

There's a beautiful Presbyterian church next door whose bells chime every hour and half hour. At 6:00 pm every evening we are treated to a medley of hymns that lasts 15 minutes or so. I recognize some of the hymns, including "This is My Father's World" which always gets stuck in my head for the remainder of the evening. But there was always this hymn that I did not know. After 2 years of hearing this same hymn almost every evening, I became quite familiar with the melody, but still did not know the words.

Then, one Sunday this summer, we were standing in church, flipping the Trinity Hymnal to #35 and as the organ pounded out the beautiful chords I was delighted to realize this was the hymn I had been hearing every evening. I must have been holding Normandie while trying to flip the pages of the hymnal because I didn't make it to #35 until the second stanza. The first words I sang as I joined in with the congregation sank deep in my heart and nearly brought me to tears.

"Unresting, unhasting, and silent as light, nor wanting, nor wasting, thou rulest in might."

Ben has been looking for a job for almost a year. Applying to church after church and going through various interview processes has been exciting but tiring. Witnessing him make the most out of each day with Normandie is precious and I know that one day we'll tell her stories of their adventures during this first year of her life. But I've also battled a series of emotions...jealousy that he gets to spend the day with her while I am at a tiring and challenging job; discouragement that after 5 hard years of work and sacrifice to earn an MDiv, he still is without a job; uncertainty as to where we'll be living from month to month (we've held off on leaving our tiny, quaint apartment until we know where Ben will be serving).

The words to the hymn were just what I needed to hear and to sing. I don't know the author's exact original intended meaning. He or she was probably referring to a bigger picture than the one I focus on day to day. But it meant a lot to me to be reminded that God is not in a hurry to get things done, including revealing where our next home will be. Not one day spent at my job away from my baby is wasted in His book. Neither is tonight spent in this apartment, waiting to know where Ben will find a job. He makes His move at exactly the right time and provides for and sustains us in the meantime. I love that about Him.

And I love that the strong melody to this sweet hymn has been floating through the din of sirens and trolleys and frat parties that make up the background noise to this busy university street where we live for now, even long before its meaning would resonate so strongly with my daily struggles.

I love that every evening at 6, as I am reunited with my sweet baby, I'm reminded that God is not (and so I do not need to be) rushed, that He never wastes time to do anything, and that He, and He alone, is wise.

Immortal, Invisible, God Only Wise

Immortal, invisible, God only wise,
In light inaccessible hid from our eyes,
Most blessèd, most glorious, the Ancient of Days,
Almighty, victorious, thy great Name we praise.

Unresting, unhasting, and silent as light,
Nor wanting, nor wasting, thou rulest in might;
Thy justice like mountains high soaring above
Thy clouds which are fountains of goodness and love.

To all life thou givest—to both great and small;
In all life thou livest, the true life of all;
We blossom and flourish as leaves on the tree,
And wither and perish—but naught changeth thee.

Great Father of glory, pure Father of light,
Thine angels adore thee, all veiling their sight;
All laud we would render: O help us to see
’Tis only the splendour of light hideth thee.

-Walter Chalmers Smith

A Day at the Beach

Turning 6 months has been such a blast. Where do I even begin.

Mom and Dad took me to a new place last week. They taught me to call it "the beach" even though everyone around here calls it "the shore".

They drove me to a place called Ocean City. They explained that because they couldn't take me to Santa Cruz just yet, this would have to do for a beach boardwalk experience.

I was like, cool.

Just wanted to make sure you got a full shot of my arm rolls.

Then Dad told me we were going to try out a new texture for my toes.

Seemed secure enough.

Squishy.

Ok, not so bad.

Wait, Dad. Is that water coming our way? I know I love the bath but this seems like A LOT of wat-

Oh my. This is a new thing. Sometimes new things make me nervous.

So Mom had to talk me down a little. She told me about how she loved the ocean as a baby and even though we were in a different ocean than the one she loves, it could still be fun.

Ok Mom!

So we tried again. This time I kind of enjoyed it.

I might be able to get used to this.

Ok I love it when he does this.

Dad's the best.

What can I say, maybe I'll be a beach baby after all.

Hey Dad, let's try that water again.

Having second thoughts.

 Cold. Cold. Cold. Colder than I remember.

Side note: Mom and Dad love my baby fat.

Eek! Get me out of here!

 Maybe next time guys. This girl has had enough for one afternoon.

Oh Dad I love you. Please just take me back to the swings.

Once we got home Mom gave me a new treat.

Avocado. Delicious.

My guac could have used a hint of lemon and cayenne but Mom said no.

Food is the best.

 That's all for now. Mom has a lot of 6 month pictures so there will be more adventures to come. For now, my other favorite body of water is calling.

Love

When I first found out I was pregnant, my friend suggested taking a picture in front of one of my favorite spots every now and then to document my growing belly. I kept meaning to gather all those pictures into one post but kept forgetting.

Then, we were in DC last weekend and we found a spot very similar to our baby backdrop, which reminded me of the pregnant photos.

So here they are, starting with the DC photo and then rewinding back to Spring of last year, right around the time I found out I was pregnant. I love seeing the changing of the seasons in the photos and remembering the moments these pictures represent.

Just found out!

 Still able to enjoy jogging

Brooke took this picture during her visit

It had just started getting pretty hot

This was during the heat wave. Katie took this picture right before we went to Honest Tom's.

Liz and Jen helped me take this photo on our last day of school! They were doing some repairs around the sign so this was the closest we could get. I found out I was having a girl the next day.

Ben had joined me back in Philly and I had started working at CHOP. Still able to make it to the gym but not as enjoyable of an experience!

 The day of the Philly marathon (I didn't do it)

Fall showers

The first (of many) snow storms

Several days past my due date and just a few days before she actually came

3 days old: the day her daddy finally got to hold her in the love picture

An anniversary, a job, a baptism, a graduation, and a plan

I thought I'd give Normandie a break and narrate this one myself. She turned 20 weeks today (well actually on Friday, but it's taken me a while to finish this post). 20 WEEKS! Hard to believe she's been alive for half of a pregnancy.

An anniversary
D-Day. Watching the veterans on tv and listening to their voices on the radio as they revisited Normandy made me yearn even more to have met my old pen pal, my great-uncle Ray, who was part of the invasion 70 years ago. I hope and pray that one day we can take Normandie there, to teach her about his sacrifice and why it was made and to honor her brave namesake. In the meantime I hope and pray she gets to meet her Great Papa soon! I miss his sweet smile and hope he gets to hold his great grand baby this September when we visit the West Coast.

A job
At the end of March I started my first nurse practitioner job. What a blessing! Leaving my baby for days at a time has been emotionally difficult but we are deeply thankful for an income and for the means to start paying off my school loans. Several of my friends stepped in and took care of Normandie on the days when I had to be at work and Ben had to be at school. It made it so much easier to leave knowing my baby was in loving nurse hands! Now that Ben is done with school, he takes care of Normandie. Although both of us would rather trade places (me at home with Normandie and Ben at work), we both can acknowledge that this is a sweet time for Ben to spend with our daughter that might not come again.

 I'm working as a pediatric nurse practitioner at a community health clinic in West Philadelphia. I'm grateful for my training at Penn that helped prepare me to face the challenges of providing primary care against the backdrop of urban poverty. More than a couple times I have found myself trying to hold back tears as the extent of a child's awful reality unfolds during a visit. My kids are incredibly precious though and I deeply enjoy partnering with their parents to try to improve life even just a little through any means I can. I'd say at least half of my patients are African immigrants which is such a huge treat for me. My rusty French has made an appearance a few times.

The view from my desk

A baptism

Normandie Mae was baptized on Mother's Day at our church, Tenth Presbyterian. What a special day it was. My mom flew into town for the occasion and our friends, the Barretts, drove up from DC to celebrate with us. My mom bought a beautiful dress for Normandie to wear, one that we hope can be worn again and again by little ones in our family for a long time to come. 

Before the service

Dr. Liam baptizing Normandie

The dress that went on and on and on...

Right after the baptism

Playing at Clark Park with our dear friends

Normandie celebrating God's grace with her Mimi

So in love 

The heavy grace behind my own salvation came a little more into focus when I beheld my precious baby in our pastor's arms as he brushed water over her head. She didn't ask or do anything that led us to this decision; we simply did because we love her and because we understood this to be our parental privilege based on Scripture. In the same way, I did nothing to deserve God's choosing, my life has everything to do with Him and His initiative of grace towards me.

My mom and I also got to spend a very special day together with Normandie at Longwood Gardens. SO BEAUTIFUL! I'm so glad we finally went.

A graduation

Two other HUGE things happened this month. Normandie met her Grammy and PopPop and Ben graduated from seminary!!!! We had a great time with Ben's parents and were so thankful they could be here, not only to meet and enjoy Normandie, but also to be a part of celebrating Ben and his amazing accomplishment.

The celebrations kicked off with a nice banquet at none other than Normandy Farms up in Blue Bell. You can imagine we had fun taking pictures of our little Normandie in front of the signs.

Farmer Ben

The next day was his graduation ceremony. Of all the graduations I've ever attended, there's always mention of how great the graduates are or how hard they've worked to get to graduation or how strenuous the program was, etc. Ben's graduation was different. Perhaps it's because a degree from Westminster speaks for itself of the rigor and discipline it took to obtain it. The ceremony was instead focused on Christ and exhortation to use their training to serve Him. It was beautiful.

My handsome seminarian

It's been 5 years since I was married to a non-student. It's been so wonderful already for both Normandie and me!

All so proud of Ben!

A plan

It's been sort of a crazy time for Ben and I. We moved out to Philly 3 years ago (3 YEARS!!) to pursue/finish our graduate degrees. This is the first time in our marriage that we don't have any educational goals for the future. We could literally go anywhere (or stay) and we have no idea where we'll be celebrating Normandie's first birthday. Not knowing the future has forced us to take each day, one at a time. It sounds cliche, I know. But if you had told me 10 years ago that I would one day be a pediatric nurse practitioner, married to an amazing Godly man fresh out of seminary and mother to a darling baby girl, and practicing medicine in an underserved pediatric population (half of my patients being from Liberia no less!)....I would have thought, wow, God has way better plans than I could even imagine for myself. So taking one day at a time with a God who knows us and loves us is not that frustrating or scary.

At the banquet they honored some men and their wives who had graduated from Westminster 50 and 60 years ago. It was so humbling to hear how each of them had served since their graduations. It made me realize that Ben and I may have 50-60 years of ministry in front of us. And the thought of being by his side for wherever God has in mind for him, and raising Normandie in the meantime fills my heart with joyful expectation.

(taken on Ben's last day of seminary)