It’s been almost two months since I shared an update, and I feel like a lot has happened!
We took a trip to Iowa to see our dear Grandma Dorothy:
Every time we see her, it seems she is a little further into that aging place where one grows ever more detached from life and all its bustle and exuberance, and ever more fond of quiet and routine and naps. But she is our Grandma Dorothy still, in the essence of her, with her practicality, her love of order, her expressiveness, and her special understanding of children.
From Iowa, we went to Wisconsin to spend time with my parents and my seven siblings and their families. I like having them all in one spot (or close), so I can see all of them most times when we visit.
I was especially glad to see my 93-year-old Grandpa, who has lived with Grandma just up the road from my parents for as long as I can remember. He was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer the week before our visit; the doctor gave him 5 months to live. Here is a picture of Grandpa and Grandma several years ago in their living room–a very typical place to find them–with Grandma holding baby Annalise.
Grandpa died this past Wednesday evening–oh so peacefully–with Grandma and two of his daughters nearby. He lived only a month and a half after his diagnosis, and experienced very little pain.
We are all remembering and sharing pictures on the family chat. Here’s one my sister Jennie shared that I love because it’s so typical of Grandpa. That laughing expression on his face, standing up front in the little country church where he was a minister for many years. In this photo, taken in 2013, he was rehearsing for my sister Kathy’s wedding, in which he had a part.
It’s hard to put a person into words. And the person I knew may not be the person you knew. But the grandpa I remember had a big gruff voice and a big friendly smile. When you visited him, he always wanted to give you something–one of the many tracts or booklets he wrote, a kohlrabi from his garden, an old book from his stash in a back room of the garage. Things would strike his funny bone sometimes–like when he was substituting at the school I attended as a child, and one of the students accidentally knocked down a whole crashing clashing row of metal folding chairs, and he stood there and laughed and laughed and laughed, his shoulders heaving. You could always hear his voice above everyone else’s during singing at church. He sang wholeheartedly, oblivious of the fact he wasn’t completely on tune. In fact, if I chose two words to describe my grandpa, those might be the two words I would give: wholehearted and oblivious. He loved people dearly but seemed unaware of the smaller nuances or emotions that happen in relationships. He walked with his chin thrust out a little, and that’s how he lived his life, always pressing forward, making and doing and being in his own way, on his own terms. He was a farmer, and proud of it, but he also loved to read and write. I learned the beginnings of what I know about church history–especially Constantine–from his sermons. During his retirement years, which were the only years that I knew him, he never seemed to worry about finances or health or anything else. With his lot in life and with whatever project he was pursuing, he was content.
I am glad he was my grandpa. And I am glad I will see him in heaven with Jesus someday. From what I know of him, he was excited about going there.
I wonder if he will see Char, and if she will get annoyed at some of his statements, like she used to, and if he won’t even notice or will think it’s funny, like he used to. But then, it’s heaven, isn’t it? No annoyance allowed. I just mentioned it because it made me laugh to think of it.
For those of you who don’t know Char, she is my friend who walked on to heaven. I wrote a book about her and me. I have a picture of her sitting on my desk, and Annalise asks me about it sometimes. In Char’s unorthodox way, she taught me a lot about Jesus.
In other news, here are some pictures from our lives the past couple of months that I love too much not to share.
Daddy and Teddy on the airplane to Iowa.
Annalise perfecting her wink.
Ice cream! During our first trip to Saffiticker’s this summer.
Planting early things in the garden.
Teddy’s joy over a chick.
Annalise’s joy over a clothesline her size.
We celebrated our own version of the Passover. For me, it was meaningful, and I’d love to talk about it more sometime. For now, a picture.
Ivan suggested a Passover cake. I didn’t realize until later that my cake wasn’t a proper Passover food. Never mind, it was the children’s favorite part of the meal. They loved painting our popsicle stick door, and poking Q-Tips into a ball of Play-do to make the sheep.
The feature photo at the top of this post was taken in the riot of early spring dandelions in a field near our house. Funny thing is, other years since living in Maryland, I missed Wisconsin’s riotous dandelions and didn’t realize we had them, too. I looked for them later in the season, maybe, as they would have come in Wisconsin. And I’ve been spending more time outside lately, noticing the flowers and plants and subtle changes in Maryland’s seasons. It takes time to get to know a place and for the plants and the rhythms of the seasons to soak into your body. I have always been somewhat of a house plant, but spending time outside, I am finding, helps you connect with an area of the world in a deeper way. I now have hope that someday the plants and trees of my new home will feel as familiar and loved as those of my childhood.
Love, until next time,
Luci
Lewis was joking up until nearly the end. He told someone that his wife was a Canaanite woman. They weren’t sure what he meant until it was explained that she used a cane! 😆 We will miss him.