Pro basketball playoffs have begun. I'll be honest--I'm not much of a fan. I claim to be a Pacers fan, but only because I live in Indianapolis. Truth be told, since Reggie Miller retired, there hasn't been much to cheer about when it comes to the Pacers. So maybe that makes me a fair weather fan, but to be honest, there is just more in the world on which I want to ponder.
Back in the almost glory days of the Pacers (when Reggie reigned supreme) there were years in the playoffs when the team did quite well. Never quite well enough to win a championship, but well enough to "sweep" the other team early in the series. This meant that the team would take the minimum number of games required to win the series all at once. (Forgive me if you are a sports fan and think this is like saying the ABC's.)
These past few weeks have been full of hunting down paperwork, dealing with different banks and investment firms, chatting with the Treasury department, meeting with realtors and trying to make decisions. This past weekend, my sister flew in and my aunt and uncle came down and we packed up and cleaned out my mother's home. Please understand--my mother was a very clean person. She took housekeeping to an art form. Of course, she was not able to do this so much over the past year as the cancer made its deadly progression through her body. But furniture was divvied up, a truck was rented for Aunt Helen and Uncle Max to take things back to Hebron (I now only have two tables in my home instead of three. At the moment I have to china cabinets, but one of those will be leaving by the end of the week) and the trash bin is full. A carload plus went to Goodwill. Once things were out of the house, my sister and aunt attacked the house to make it shine. Both bathrooms were scrubbed, mirrors were shined, cabinets were wiped clean, and floors were done. We all agreed that window cleaning was none of the current company's forte, and this should be hired out.
My sister and I have agreed upon a realtor and I am meeting with her tomorrow to sign paperwork and officially get the house listed. We hear it is a buyer's market, so we are hoping this house sells quickly. I would like to have all the pieces of her estate decided and settled. I would like to move ahead. I would like to make a clean sweep of getting things done.
Rarely do clean sweeps happen in pro basketball. Even less do clean sweeps happen in real life and in relationships. I was happy that Aunt Helen decided she wanted the table and china cabinet. I have had no use for them for years, but did not want to get rid of them because they belonged to my grandparents. Aunt Helen made the connection (seemingly obvious) that these were her mother's. Thank heaven she was able to restore them to Hebron. Donna and I had a moment in the house when things felt surreal. I told her that it felt like Mom could come back in at any moment. Donna said that at least we had the house clean for her. Of course, the down side is that Mom would have no clothes as they have all made it to Goodwill. Donna's answer for that was equally appropriate for Mom--"We would just have to go shopping!"
I do not want to sweep the memories of my mother out of my life. I do not want to sweep my long distance relationship with my sister out of my life. I fear selling Mom's house but at the same time cannot wait for it to sell. Maybe the clean sweep is not so much to be desired.
Monday, April 22, 2013
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Mid Life Crisis or Second Journey?
To tell you the truth, many of my ideas are not original. I read a lot, picking up pieces of this and that, filing them away, and then they come back out during opportune and inopportune times. I think the title of this post came from a book by Susan Howatch...and she was quoting someone else. Whereever this came from, I'm smack dab in the middle of trying to understand if I am having a "mid life crisis" (or what that even is, for crying out loud!) or at the start of a second journey.
Here is how I understand the good old fashioned "mid-life crisis". Usually a man hits his mid 40's or so, has a little extra money he didn't have as a younger man...and he gets a little itchy to do something he has not done before. At best, the cliche is to buy a little red sports car--most likely a convertible. At worst, the man trades in his first love for a trophy wife. And in between are all kinds of different behaviors--maybe changing physical appearance or taking up a new hobby. I'm not quite certain how this mid-life crisis behavior manifests itself in women. I suppose they can do similar things--after all--red sports car convertibles are FUN!! (Don't you think I would look really good in a red convertible? How many tickets do you think I would incur?)
But the "second journey" seems to be a different animal all together. There seems to be more of a sense of purpose. It's a change in focus. It's a chance to do something that the individual has not yet undertaken. There is less cliche and more risk. And now I find myself at a decision point. Am I having a mid-life crisis or do I have the courage to embark on a second journey?
All my early goals in life have been fulfilled--in one way or another. Sure there have been bumps along the road and things I did not plan. When I was in high school my goal was to go to college. When I got to college my goal was to graduate and get a job. Then the goal was grad school and job. Followed by marriage and having children. From there the plans were a little more murky...I assumed I would make the happily ever after stage eventually. I pictured myself with home, husband and grandchildren. My mom was a great example...and added caretaker to her many job titles. She took care of my dad and then her dad. She moved to Greenfield to help me during my divorce. So after the divorce and some really hands on grandparenting, I found myself in the role of caretaker for my mom. But that job is now done.
Don't get me wrong. In all my current states and situations, I am truly blessed. I have a nice roof over my head, a job I love with a ton of benefits, a great man to love and explore life with, my dogs and some great great relationships. But there is this little niggling piece of discontent inside me. I now have the ability to make some changes and I want to do so...I think.
There is talk of moving. There is talk of going back to school. There is talk of travel. And I have initiated all of these conversations. I've been told it is not wise to make any major decisions at this stage in life. Grief can cloud clear decision making. Yet I think I must listen to that niggle deep inside and begin to make some change. Hopefully I will be able to focus better, take a deep breath, and commit to a new plan; a new goal. Don't be surprised to read in this blog that I am doing something different. On the other hand...who knows? There may be a convertible out there somewhere with my name on it.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
The Big Let Down
It's been almost four weeks since Mom left this world. It's been ten days since we officially said goodbye with two memorial services; one here near where I live and one in the hometown. Planning these services was tricky. My sister and I had no idea how many people would come to a service here in the Indianapolis area, and no idea how many people from Hebron would be able to make it. Add to that impossible to predict weather, and we were just up in the air.
The first service was officiated by the hospice chaplain. He was able to share some of her joys and fears she expressed as she neared the end of her life. The service was well attended, with the funeral home staff bringing in more and more chairs. One request Mom had made of me was to sing the Hymn of Promise. During an earlier hospitalization, again on too many drugs and confused, Mom was insisting she was able to see the future. She said everyone told her what a wonderful job I did in singing. No pressure there, right? So when the time came, I took a deep breath and sang. The tears did not come until after I sang. Truthfully, that ranks right up there with one of the most difficult things I have ever done.
After that service, the family went back to Mom's house. My Amity UMC family brought enough food to feed the DeKock army. Not only did my Ohio cousins come, so did their spouses and part of their kids. My daughters had not seen these distant cousins since they had been children playing at the Indiana Dunes. It was the kind of party my mother would have enjoyed.
The service in Hebron was wonderful as well. Again, Mom would have enjoyed it. The Hebron UMC ladies prepared a wonderful lunch. Pastor Kathie offered me the opportunity to sing again, but she read from my earlier blog postings. I've never heard these words read aloud before. It was a humbling experience, to be sure. And the tears flowed. There was no way I could have sung a note.
Having not been in Hebron for awhile, the entire experience has a sense of the surreal. I was able to visit with friends I have not seen in years. I was able to chat with a former teacher--Phyllis Franzman. Mrs. Franzman, or Foo Foo as we called her, taught me how to write in a clear manner. As I put these feelings to paper (or screen) this has been such a great blessing and relief for me.
And then I came home. My sister and her family have returned to their lives. My sister and I are dealing with the estate and bureaucracies inherent in this process. I was craving normalcy, and wanted to jump back into work. My work family has been everything I expected--loving, nurturing and caring. And while I am there or talking with a family, life is normal. When I leave the office or head back to the far Eastside from wherever I might have been, I have the urge to call Mom and tell her when I will be there. I have the urge to call to tell her what has been going on. When I come across something I know would interest her, I sometimes forget I can't just tell her. And then the realization hits me again. I cannot tell Mom about the latest adoption. I cannot tell Mom what I would like to be doing this summer. I am seeing cards for Mother's Day displayed now. I won't be buying her a Mother's Day card. I will have to pay respects another way. Instead of flowers for her patio, I will have to buy flowers for her grave.
I guess the bottom line is simply that I miss her. I miss her smile, bright blue eyes and wit. I miss knowing that she has my back. I fear wasting my inheritance, but I fear I will not be the woman she raised me to be. I miss her encouragement. But I try to keep living normal. I carry a piece of her with me in my heart. I hope she has influenced you as well.
The first service was officiated by the hospice chaplain. He was able to share some of her joys and fears she expressed as she neared the end of her life. The service was well attended, with the funeral home staff bringing in more and more chairs. One request Mom had made of me was to sing the Hymn of Promise. During an earlier hospitalization, again on too many drugs and confused, Mom was insisting she was able to see the future. She said everyone told her what a wonderful job I did in singing. No pressure there, right? So when the time came, I took a deep breath and sang. The tears did not come until after I sang. Truthfully, that ranks right up there with one of the most difficult things I have ever done.
After that service, the family went back to Mom's house. My Amity UMC family brought enough food to feed the DeKock army. Not only did my Ohio cousins come, so did their spouses and part of their kids. My daughters had not seen these distant cousins since they had been children playing at the Indiana Dunes. It was the kind of party my mother would have enjoyed.
The service in Hebron was wonderful as well. Again, Mom would have enjoyed it. The Hebron UMC ladies prepared a wonderful lunch. Pastor Kathie offered me the opportunity to sing again, but she read from my earlier blog postings. I've never heard these words read aloud before. It was a humbling experience, to be sure. And the tears flowed. There was no way I could have sung a note.
Having not been in Hebron for awhile, the entire experience has a sense of the surreal. I was able to visit with friends I have not seen in years. I was able to chat with a former teacher--Phyllis Franzman. Mrs. Franzman, or Foo Foo as we called her, taught me how to write in a clear manner. As I put these feelings to paper (or screen) this has been such a great blessing and relief for me.
And then I came home. My sister and her family have returned to their lives. My sister and I are dealing with the estate and bureaucracies inherent in this process. I was craving normalcy, and wanted to jump back into work. My work family has been everything I expected--loving, nurturing and caring. And while I am there or talking with a family, life is normal. When I leave the office or head back to the far Eastside from wherever I might have been, I have the urge to call Mom and tell her when I will be there. I have the urge to call to tell her what has been going on. When I come across something I know would interest her, I sometimes forget I can't just tell her. And then the realization hits me again. I cannot tell Mom about the latest adoption. I cannot tell Mom what I would like to be doing this summer. I am seeing cards for Mother's Day displayed now. I won't be buying her a Mother's Day card. I will have to pay respects another way. Instead of flowers for her patio, I will have to buy flowers for her grave.
I guess the bottom line is simply that I miss her. I miss her smile, bright blue eyes and wit. I miss knowing that she has my back. I fear wasting my inheritance, but I fear I will not be the woman she raised me to be. I miss her encouragement. But I try to keep living normal. I carry a piece of her with me in my heart. I hope she has influenced you as well.
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Nouns, Verbs and Emptiness
Grammar 101: A noun is a person, place or thing. This is in contrast to verbs, which are action words. I'm in the middle of grieving, which is a verb. And the nouns are making it harder. Take for example the noun "mother". Of course, that's the noun I am grieving. But there are triggers of less significant nouns that intensify the grief. (Grief in this case is also a noun, which just makes the English language that much more interesting.)
The biggest of these triggers is the house. I love my mom's house. It is a small brick ranch, with three bedrooms and two bathrooms. (Although, to say the third bedroom is a bedroom is a bit of a stretch. By real estate standards with closet and egress, it is a bedroom. It has never been used as a bedroom. It is the office.) Mom bought the house when I was going through my divorce. She gave up her life in the town she had lived for more than 70 years, including her friends, her sister, and her church, to be near to me and my teenage daughters. I appreciated it more than I ever thought. After all, I had spent years foolishly thinking my mother lived the perfect distance of 150 miles away from me. I could see her when convenient for both of us but didn't have to listen to all the momisms on a regular basis. However, when I needed her I needed her. I had friends, and they were great, but they were not my mom. There is nothing like a mom when your heart is breaking.
But back to the house. Mom settled in and made it her own. She added upgrades over the time she was there, sometimes saying she did not know why she was doing it. The upgrades made the house more beautiful. Mom always liked nice things. The house in which I was raised was built at the turn of the last century, and she was easily frustrated with its idiosyncrasies. There were big things....only one bathroom, no garage, no separate family room and an upstairs that was impossible to heat. The basement was an old fashioned cellar. When my parents moved from that house after I was graduating from college, I grieved the loss of that house. When my girls hear about their father planning to move from the house in which they were raised, a get it. I understand. A house is more than house--it is often a sense of security. When my mom left the "new" Hebron house to move here, it did not bother me nearly as much as the original house.
So now my sister and I are faced with cleaning and selling the house in which my mom spent her last seven years and in which she died. Mom knew this would be her last home, and so she kept the sentimentality of it to a minimum. She had been through the jewelry, the pictures, the clothes and given many of them away. She let me know what things she wanted me to have and what things my sister was to get. Mom left my sister and I with strict instructions to NOT FIGHT over the distribution of her assets. Her will was clear. The big things are to be split in half. To this point, my sister and I have honored that and I see no reason why we won't continue to do so.
My sister left for her home in Colorado on Tuesday morning. When I went over Monday afternoon, the grief hit me in a wave. I saw the truck with Mom's things and the realization that she was gone was overwhelming. The house is still nice, but Mom is not there. Her things are there. Some furniture remains. My sister and I will be dividing more of the things next month. We have been in touch with a realtor who will assist in selling the house. When that happens I will no longer be able to walk in at will, and give my mother my standard greeting "Hey mom" and kiss. I will be reminded yet again that she is not with me.
A dear friend is coming over tomorrow afternoon to help me look through some of the papers necessary for the estate. I'll take some of the things with me that my sister and I have already agreed upon that are now mine. Hopefully I will not cry the entire afternoon away. I will continue to miss my mom. I will need to focus on keeping my house as my home, and let it be my sense of security.
The biggest of these triggers is the house. I love my mom's house. It is a small brick ranch, with three bedrooms and two bathrooms. (Although, to say the third bedroom is a bedroom is a bit of a stretch. By real estate standards with closet and egress, it is a bedroom. It has never been used as a bedroom. It is the office.) Mom bought the house when I was going through my divorce. She gave up her life in the town she had lived for more than 70 years, including her friends, her sister, and her church, to be near to me and my teenage daughters. I appreciated it more than I ever thought. After all, I had spent years foolishly thinking my mother lived the perfect distance of 150 miles away from me. I could see her when convenient for both of us but didn't have to listen to all the momisms on a regular basis. However, when I needed her I needed her. I had friends, and they were great, but they were not my mom. There is nothing like a mom when your heart is breaking.
But back to the house. Mom settled in and made it her own. She added upgrades over the time she was there, sometimes saying she did not know why she was doing it. The upgrades made the house more beautiful. Mom always liked nice things. The house in which I was raised was built at the turn of the last century, and she was easily frustrated with its idiosyncrasies. There were big things....only one bathroom, no garage, no separate family room and an upstairs that was impossible to heat. The basement was an old fashioned cellar. When my parents moved from that house after I was graduating from college, I grieved the loss of that house. When my girls hear about their father planning to move from the house in which they were raised, a get it. I understand. A house is more than house--it is often a sense of security. When my mom left the "new" Hebron house to move here, it did not bother me nearly as much as the original house.
So now my sister and I are faced with cleaning and selling the house in which my mom spent her last seven years and in which she died. Mom knew this would be her last home, and so she kept the sentimentality of it to a minimum. She had been through the jewelry, the pictures, the clothes and given many of them away. She let me know what things she wanted me to have and what things my sister was to get. Mom left my sister and I with strict instructions to NOT FIGHT over the distribution of her assets. Her will was clear. The big things are to be split in half. To this point, my sister and I have honored that and I see no reason why we won't continue to do so.
My sister left for her home in Colorado on Tuesday morning. When I went over Monday afternoon, the grief hit me in a wave. I saw the truck with Mom's things and the realization that she was gone was overwhelming. The house is still nice, but Mom is not there. Her things are there. Some furniture remains. My sister and I will be dividing more of the things next month. We have been in touch with a realtor who will assist in selling the house. When that happens I will no longer be able to walk in at will, and give my mother my standard greeting "Hey mom" and kiss. I will be reminded yet again that she is not with me.
A dear friend is coming over tomorrow afternoon to help me look through some of the papers necessary for the estate. I'll take some of the things with me that my sister and I have already agreed upon that are now mine. Hopefully I will not cry the entire afternoon away. I will continue to miss my mom. I will need to focus on keeping my house as my home, and let it be my sense of security.
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Photographs and Memories (and the Rise of the Hoosiers...)
"Photographs and memories; Christmas cards you sent to me; And all that I have are these to remember you by". Bonus points if you can name the singer/songwriter...
This is a bittersweet weekend. Last night was spent with my sister, brother-in-law, niece, nephew and significant dude. As the Hurryin' Hoosiers (a number one seed, I might add) played in the NCAA tourney on television, we sat around the table and ate a meal prepared by my wonderful ASC angel co-workers. (After all, that is what people do in times of grief. Eat. And share food. And do...) The Hoosiers did win last night. The president of the United States has picked them to win the tourney. To say my dad was a huge IU fan would be an understatement. Every March he would eat, breathe and live IU basketball. He died before Bobby Knight was fired and I think it is a positive thing he missed the shenanigans that ensued. I also think he would be very excited about this team, Coach Crean, and the team's prospects this year.
After the meal, we started poring over scrapbooks. And going through papers. We found some interesting things--in addition to Mom's college diploma we found her transcript. Remember when I said she was competitive? And that she valued education? There was never a semester she was not on the Dean's List. Her GPA? 3.91. Not too shabby for someone who had not been in school since 1950.
There was controversy over some pictures from the past--as in just who is that baby? Is that Mom? Or is that one of her sisters? And if it is not Mom, why would she have a baby picture of one of her sisters? We think it's Mom. It's on the collage that will go to the memorial service today. That's our story and we're sticking to it.
The pictures are funny things. Mom was very definite in her dislikes, as well as her likes. She went to Europe without a camera. Her theory was that pictures of castles and the like would not change--they have been there for hundreds of years. If you want a picture of a particular place, buy a postcard. She did concede at one point that if the pictures had familiar people in them, they were ok. Oddly enough, we found a scrapbook with pictures of her in Europe! One with a sign pointing to the washroom. Important in any language.
For someone who did not like pictures, she has many scrapbooks and boxes of pictures. Some were easily identifiable, others were not. Another photo that made the collage was a picture of Mom holding up an "Ironing Table". There were not any Christmas decorations in the photo, so we don't know what the occasion happened to be to warrant a new "Ironing Table", but she was an ironer. I can recall her ironing my dad's underwear that she had hung on the line. The phrase "no-iron" attached to clothing simply did not apply. Mom ironed. She always ironed her sheets...making laundry day a bit more challenging.
Not only are there are pictures of Mom throughout her life doing various things, there are the pictures of my sister and I throughout out lifespan. It's funny to see the various hair styles and degrees of pudginess. Some people in the pictures are no longer in the family...the ex for example.
My nephew is a rock climber. Ice wall climber. Adventurer...(crazy, but that's only my opinion, and not a clinical one. That's the aunt who prefers to keep feet on the ground.) At one point my niece pointed out a picture of a long ago birthday, and said "That's Eric's first climbing rope!" Now there is a photo hanging on Mom's wall of Eric sitting on top of a Teton. He is literally in the clouds. Funny how we have documentation of that particular "first".
New memories are being built. Life will go on without Mom. But I'm grateful to have the photographs and the random card from her to remind me of my heritage. To quote the singer/songwriter from above..."I got a name...I got a song...and I carry it with me and I sing it loud...if it gets me nowhere, I'll go there proud." The end of this great song is "moving ahead so life don't pass me by". I'm moving ahead. I may be kicking and screaming, but I am moving ahead. I will say good-bye to my mom this weekend...good-bye for now. Really--it's more of a "see you around".
Thanks, Jim Croce, for great lyrics.
I'll see you all around.
This is a bittersweet weekend. Last night was spent with my sister, brother-in-law, niece, nephew and significant dude. As the Hurryin' Hoosiers (a number one seed, I might add) played in the NCAA tourney on television, we sat around the table and ate a meal prepared by my wonderful ASC angel co-workers. (After all, that is what people do in times of grief. Eat. And share food. And do...) The Hoosiers did win last night. The president of the United States has picked them to win the tourney. To say my dad was a huge IU fan would be an understatement. Every March he would eat, breathe and live IU basketball. He died before Bobby Knight was fired and I think it is a positive thing he missed the shenanigans that ensued. I also think he would be very excited about this team, Coach Crean, and the team's prospects this year.
After the meal, we started poring over scrapbooks. And going through papers. We found some interesting things--in addition to Mom's college diploma we found her transcript. Remember when I said she was competitive? And that she valued education? There was never a semester she was not on the Dean's List. Her GPA? 3.91. Not too shabby for someone who had not been in school since 1950.
There was controversy over some pictures from the past--as in just who is that baby? Is that Mom? Or is that one of her sisters? And if it is not Mom, why would she have a baby picture of one of her sisters? We think it's Mom. It's on the collage that will go to the memorial service today. That's our story and we're sticking to it.
The pictures are funny things. Mom was very definite in her dislikes, as well as her likes. She went to Europe without a camera. Her theory was that pictures of castles and the like would not change--they have been there for hundreds of years. If you want a picture of a particular place, buy a postcard. She did concede at one point that if the pictures had familiar people in them, they were ok. Oddly enough, we found a scrapbook with pictures of her in Europe! One with a sign pointing to the washroom. Important in any language.
For someone who did not like pictures, she has many scrapbooks and boxes of pictures. Some were easily identifiable, others were not. Another photo that made the collage was a picture of Mom holding up an "Ironing Table". There were not any Christmas decorations in the photo, so we don't know what the occasion happened to be to warrant a new "Ironing Table", but she was an ironer. I can recall her ironing my dad's underwear that she had hung on the line. The phrase "no-iron" attached to clothing simply did not apply. Mom ironed. She always ironed her sheets...making laundry day a bit more challenging.
Not only are there are pictures of Mom throughout her life doing various things, there are the pictures of my sister and I throughout out lifespan. It's funny to see the various hair styles and degrees of pudginess. Some people in the pictures are no longer in the family...the ex for example.
My nephew is a rock climber. Ice wall climber. Adventurer...(crazy, but that's only my opinion, and not a clinical one. That's the aunt who prefers to keep feet on the ground.) At one point my niece pointed out a picture of a long ago birthday, and said "That's Eric's first climbing rope!" Now there is a photo hanging on Mom's wall of Eric sitting on top of a Teton. He is literally in the clouds. Funny how we have documentation of that particular "first".
New memories are being built. Life will go on without Mom. But I'm grateful to have the photographs and the random card from her to remind me of my heritage. To quote the singer/songwriter from above..."I got a name...I got a song...and I carry it with me and I sing it loud...if it gets me nowhere, I'll go there proud." The end of this great song is "moving ahead so life don't pass me by". I'm moving ahead. I may be kicking and screaming, but I am moving ahead. I will say good-bye to my mom this weekend...good-bye for now. Really--it's more of a "see you around".
Thanks, Jim Croce, for great lyrics.
I'll see you all around.
Friday, March 15, 2013
Kairos Won--(Was there really any doubt?)
Yesterday I posted on Facebook that I was getting a real lesson in God's time. And today that lesson is complete. I'm writing this in my own home--as opposed to Mom's--and I've cried buckets of tears today. As you have guess from the tone, Mom died this morning. Officially the time of death was 9:50 a.m. This was the moment for which I have been waiting and waiting. Yet I have been dreading it beyond measure.
The ancient Greeks had two words that we have since translated as "time". (Or so I have been taught...) The most familiar of the two is "chronos" from which we get words such as chronology and chronological. This assumes time can be measured, and measure we do. We have timelines and clocks. We have calendars. We mark the progress of time with rites of passage such as birthdays, graduations, and weddings. We also mark the progress of time with photos and lines drawn on a wall. Sadly enough, we also mark the progress of times with funerals.
As I understand it, the point of a funeral is to say goodbye to the loved one and to celebrate and honor their life. There is a poem or song about "The Dash"--the things that happen in between the date of birth and the date of death on the tombstone. These are all the things that make a life...the lessons learned, the journeys traveled, the family raised. All of this can be placed on a time line. So my mom's chronology includes her date of birth...January 9, 1933. It includes working in her father' store from the age of 14, getting married, divorced, then married again, having two daughters, working in various Hebron, Indiana businesses, and having grandchildren. It includes travel, and college, and moves. In between the big markers were thousands of little ones...meals eaten, books read, walks taken. There were golf games and card games. There was joy and there was heartache.
Ultimately, I believe "chronos" is a gift from God, given as part of the life we are to live here on earth. But then there is "Kairos". I am less clear on Kairos, as I have never been a philosopher. But according to the ever reliable (said tongue in cheek) Wikipedia,"in the New Testament, kairos means 'the appointed time in the purpose of God', the time when God acts. Merriam-Webster defines it as a time when conditions are right for the accomplishment of a crucial action : the opportune and decisive moment. In general, it's my understanding that Kairos has to do about quality rather than number. And this, is the greatest gift of all.
God's time is not ours. He is infinite, timeless and eternal. Yet He is concerned about each and every one of us. He is the creator and sustainer of life. And not only this life...the life eternal for us. And so today, God acted. He took His daughter home--He healed her through death. A mystery, yes. Preposterous to some, but my hope and faith tell me otherwise. Today my Mom entered into eternity...she is with her parents, husband and sister who have gone before her, and with Jesus. John Newton said it so well in the hymn Amazing Grace: "When we've been there 10,000 years/Bright shining as the sun/We've no less days to sing God's praise/ Than when we've first begun..."
In the chronos days to come, I hope to be aware of the Kairos--the quality of being with family and friends. The joy of being held and of holding on. And I pray that for you as well. Look for Kairos--and love deeply.
Some Kairos with her favorite people...
The ancient Greeks had two words that we have since translated as "time". (Or so I have been taught...) The most familiar of the two is "chronos" from which we get words such as chronology and chronological. This assumes time can be measured, and measure we do. We have timelines and clocks. We have calendars. We mark the progress of time with rites of passage such as birthdays, graduations, and weddings. We also mark the progress of time with photos and lines drawn on a wall. Sadly enough, we also mark the progress of times with funerals.
As I understand it, the point of a funeral is to say goodbye to the loved one and to celebrate and honor their life. There is a poem or song about "The Dash"--the things that happen in between the date of birth and the date of death on the tombstone. These are all the things that make a life...the lessons learned, the journeys traveled, the family raised. All of this can be placed on a time line. So my mom's chronology includes her date of birth...January 9, 1933. It includes working in her father' store from the age of 14, getting married, divorced, then married again, having two daughters, working in various Hebron, Indiana businesses, and having grandchildren. It includes travel, and college, and moves. In between the big markers were thousands of little ones...meals eaten, books read, walks taken. There were golf games and card games. There was joy and there was heartache.
Ultimately, I believe "chronos" is a gift from God, given as part of the life we are to live here on earth. But then there is "Kairos". I am less clear on Kairos, as I have never been a philosopher. But according to the ever reliable (said tongue in cheek) Wikipedia,"in the New Testament, kairos means 'the appointed time in the purpose of God', the time when God acts. Merriam-Webster defines it as a time when conditions are right for the accomplishment of a crucial action : the opportune and decisive moment. In general, it's my understanding that Kairos has to do about quality rather than number. And this, is the greatest gift of all.
God's time is not ours. He is infinite, timeless and eternal. Yet He is concerned about each and every one of us. He is the creator and sustainer of life. And not only this life...the life eternal for us. And so today, God acted. He took His daughter home--He healed her through death. A mystery, yes. Preposterous to some, but my hope and faith tell me otherwise. Today my Mom entered into eternity...she is with her parents, husband and sister who have gone before her, and with Jesus. John Newton said it so well in the hymn Amazing Grace: "When we've been there 10,000 years/Bright shining as the sun/We've no less days to sing God's praise/ Than when we've first begun..."
In the chronos days to come, I hope to be aware of the Kairos--the quality of being with family and friends. The joy of being held and of holding on. And I pray that for you as well. Look for Kairos--and love deeply.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Sisters and the Rights of Succession
I hear Great Britain is thinking of changing their laws of succession to the throne...meaning that no matter the gender of the child the Duchess of Cambridge is carrying, this child will be next in line to the throne after Prince William. (And in no way, shape, or form should Prince William be considered the "baby daddy". Can you imagine? How tacky would that be? How tacky is it that we use that term so frequently nowadays anyway? Another rant for another blog, I suppose.) Considering that Queen Elizabeth just celebrated her Jubilee, it seems the Brits are ok with a female monarch.
The DeKocks have been run by a female monarch since the patriarch of our branch of the family died in 1999. (Give or take a year...) That person has been my mom, Mary. She has marshaled the estate trust, oversaw the sale of Grandpa's home to her younger sister, and planned family reunions. She maintained a spreadsheet of phone numbers and email addresses and opined on everything related to the various nieces, nephews and greats of all connectedness. In short, she was the go to person for all things DeKock.
In the beginning, the were four DeKock sisters; Martha, Mary, Kathryn and Helen. Martha spent most of her adult life in Ohio and died in the 1990's, even before Grandpa DeKock. This left Mary as the de facto eldest daughter. Martha had three children, one daughter and two sons. Mom kept in touch with her niece and nephew and endeavored to make certain they were treated fairly. She asked their opinion regarding the sale of the family home. Mom enjoyed their visits. The last visit was in the spring of 2012 as Mom was finishing her radiation treatments. Mom always described her sister Martha as "the athletic one". It seems Martha had the dubious position of trying to keep the younger sisters somewhat in line, and this was met with mixed results.
Mom and Kathryn were the closest in age, and as they occupied the middle positions in the family, it seems they were the closest. They both married young, but Kathryn had the jump on having children. Kathryn had three boys in quick succession, and the Searle family moved to Utah. Eventually, a daughter would be added to this mix, my cousin Julie. We bookend the last year of the baby boomer generation with my birthday in January and hers in December. Mom and Kathryn look alike, sound alike and act alike. It gives my cousins and my sister and I something to laugh about.
And then there is Helen, named after her mother. Apparently, this was her mother's mother's name as well, and Helen was called Baby Helen for quite some time. I appreciate my Aunt Helen because she was the baby of the family, and we family babies know we are special. Helen has two children, one male and one female. My cousin Alan is very close to Mom, as is his wife.
Kathryn and Helen were here last week. At times Mom recognized them. She got just as angry at Kathryn as she did with me as we were trying to care for her in a way she did not like. It was fun to watch the sisters together. They were all together in Florida at the start of the year. This was also entertaining. No one seems to understand a sisterhood like those in the sisterhood.
Which brings me to now. My sister and I are unique in that of the cousins, we are the only sole sister group. (Not "soul sister"--keep your singing to yourself--and we will do the same :-) All our cousins have brother/sister combinations. So Donna and I are left to carry on the tradition of being DeKock sisters...albeit a generation removed. I'm thankful beyond measure that she is my sister. Although we are seven (and a half) years apart, we share the same mom, the same upbringing. And although we are as different as night and day, no one loves me like she does, and no one loves her like I do. No one understands a sisterhood like those in the sisterhood.
Will Kathryn or Donna take over the reigns of matriarch? I don't really know. I know both of these women are very special; strong, determined and loving. I look at both and see my mom. And I know I have been blessed beyond measure to be a DeKock and to be Donna's sister.
The DeKocks have been run by a female monarch since the patriarch of our branch of the family died in 1999. (Give or take a year...) That person has been my mom, Mary. She has marshaled the estate trust, oversaw the sale of Grandpa's home to her younger sister, and planned family reunions. She maintained a spreadsheet of phone numbers and email addresses and opined on everything related to the various nieces, nephews and greats of all connectedness. In short, she was the go to person for all things DeKock.
In the beginning, the were four DeKock sisters; Martha, Mary, Kathryn and Helen. Martha spent most of her adult life in Ohio and died in the 1990's, even before Grandpa DeKock. This left Mary as the de facto eldest daughter. Martha had three children, one daughter and two sons. Mom kept in touch with her niece and nephew and endeavored to make certain they were treated fairly. She asked their opinion regarding the sale of the family home. Mom enjoyed their visits. The last visit was in the spring of 2012 as Mom was finishing her radiation treatments. Mom always described her sister Martha as "the athletic one". It seems Martha had the dubious position of trying to keep the younger sisters somewhat in line, and this was met with mixed results.
Mom and Kathryn were the closest in age, and as they occupied the middle positions in the family, it seems they were the closest. They both married young, but Kathryn had the jump on having children. Kathryn had three boys in quick succession, and the Searle family moved to Utah. Eventually, a daughter would be added to this mix, my cousin Julie. We bookend the last year of the baby boomer generation with my birthday in January and hers in December. Mom and Kathryn look alike, sound alike and act alike. It gives my cousins and my sister and I something to laugh about.
And then there is Helen, named after her mother. Apparently, this was her mother's mother's name as well, and Helen was called Baby Helen for quite some time. I appreciate my Aunt Helen because she was the baby of the family, and we family babies know we are special. Helen has two children, one male and one female. My cousin Alan is very close to Mom, as is his wife.
Kathryn and Helen were here last week. At times Mom recognized them. She got just as angry at Kathryn as she did with me as we were trying to care for her in a way she did not like. It was fun to watch the sisters together. They were all together in Florida at the start of the year. This was also entertaining. No one seems to understand a sisterhood like those in the sisterhood.
Which brings me to now. My sister and I are unique in that of the cousins, we are the only sole sister group. (Not "soul sister"--keep your singing to yourself--and we will do the same :-) All our cousins have brother/sister combinations. So Donna and I are left to carry on the tradition of being DeKock sisters...albeit a generation removed. I'm thankful beyond measure that she is my sister. Although we are seven (and a half) years apart, we share the same mom, the same upbringing. And although we are as different as night and day, no one loves me like she does, and no one loves her like I do. No one understands a sisterhood like those in the sisterhood.
Will Kathryn or Donna take over the reigns of matriarch? I don't really know. I know both of these women are very special; strong, determined and loving. I look at both and see my mom. And I know I have been blessed beyond measure to be a DeKock and to be Donna's sister.
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