Because someday…

I woke up feeling cranky that day.  I’m not sure why so I’ll chalk it up to a restless night’s sleep or strange dreams or something.

Later that morning when I began cleaning our master bathroom shower, the glass shower door came off the track. 

I fidgeted with it, fussing and fuming until finally I gave up because I still couldn’t get it seated properly.  And that caused me to be even grouchier.

Thinking a cup of hot tea would surely soothe the savage beast that seemed to rage inside me, I made my way to the kitchen.  Stepping into the dining room, I noticed the new curtains that I had just ironed the day before were wrinkly.  “Are you kidding me?”  I thought.  Grrr!

About that time, hubby came home from taking some of that ‘too much stuff’ from our basement hoard, which also makes me irritated, to the recycling center.  Not long after he stepped into the kitchen, I was growling about yet another issue.

“Wow, why are you so cranky?” he asked. “Get up on the wrong side of the bed?”

You know, when you’ve been married for 30 plus years, you should realize and remember what floats your spouse’s boat and also what just pushes his or her buttons.

And hubby was punching my buttons!  Or so it seemed to me.  The more he pushed, the more I griped and growled.

This unhappy sequence continued for most of the day.  And although he fixed the shower door and even finished cleaning the shower for me, and helped me hang the curtains, I still wanted to bite his head off.

Outside – with snow flurries in the middle of April for heaven’s sake!  – proved just as miserable and cold as it was inside. When hubby suggested we grab a burger for dinner, I balked.  I really didn’t want to go out on this very un-spring-like day and I’m certain I even complained about that.

But off we went anyway to a local fast food place.  On our way there, we argued in one of those ‘you misunderstood what  I meant’ kind of disagreements, and this time, hubby was the one who exhibited crabbiness.

Guess it became contagious. 

We ordered our burgers and sat in silence while we ate.  And that’s when I noticed them.

The two of them sat alone in a booth behind my husband.  I figured they were in their 80’s.  She sat directly beside him and talked softly to him as he slowly chewed his food.  She helped him lift his drink cup and maneuvered the straw in the direction of his mouth so he could sip his strawberry lemonade.

He was bothered by crumbs on his pants but couldn’t quite knock them off, so she did it for him.  She even wiped his runny nose.

And right there in the middle of that Wendy’s restaurant, I wanted to cry. 

I watched this married couple and the picture I witnessed was one of abiding love.  The gentleman obviously suffered from frail health; I’m guessing that he had endured a slight stroke.  He must have lost weight during his illness as well because he wore his wedding band, which matched his wife’s, on the middle finger of his left hand not his ring finger.

He answered slowly and quietly when his wife asked him something. And each time she came to his aid, he looked at her with gratitude.  In conjunction, she treated him with patience and kindness.

I don’t think anyone else in the restaurant noticed them except me.  As I sat there trying to swallow bites of hamburger around the huge lump in my throat and struggling not to let tears erupt, I knew I saw this couple for a reason.  On this very day.

Someday, ‘they’ might be ‘us.’  That’s what I thought.  And the image of a day that might come in the future moved me to conviction to be so very grateful for now.  This moment, this day.

All day I had been cantankerous with my husband.  My husband – the one I love – who is healthy and strong and good-hearted and willingly endures the likes of me.  And I knew deep in my heart and soul that he didn’t deserve the treatment I had just given him.

I’m certain that God revealed the scene that unfolded in front of my eyes to put a check in my spirit, to remind me to be grateful for my marriage partner, even if he does push my buttons.  And God reminded me that I need to season my words with grace and love and patience and kindness.

Because someday, we may be the old married couple sitting in a restaurant without our family along, tending to the other because one of us isn’t capable.   

When we arrived home, I tearfully asked my husband if he had seen them.   Yes, he had noticed them and he had one observation to make, “That’s what marriage is all about.”

On that best day of the year which started out so poorly, I was reminded why it’s important for me to remember love –  true honest to goodness love that lasts a lifetime for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until death do us part. 

And I thank God for the lesson I learned. Thank you for this day.

©2013 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

  

Word of the day: Love

It’s Valentine’s Day.  The day we celebrate love.

Love, love, love.  It’s everywhere today.  Hearts and flowers.  Big red heart-shaped candy boxes. 

Yes, there will be gifts galore.   Jewelry, chocolates, red roses, stuffed animals, heart-laden cards, and fancy dinners.

 Who doesn’t love love and all it brings?  Who doesn’t love Valentine’s Day?

I’ll tell you who.  Those who feel unloved, that’s who.  Those who are lonely on this day and every day.  Those who have lost their loved ones.  Those who are burdened.

Valentine’s Day always brings romantic love to mind, but really it should be a day that we demonstrate love.  Period.  Love to everyone.  Kind of like that old 60’s song, “Put A Little Love in Your Heart.”

“Think of your fellow man; lend him a helping hand,

Put a little love in your heart.

You see it’s getting late;  oh, please don’t hesitate

Put a little love in your heart.

And the world will be a better place; and the world will be a better place

For you and me.  You just wait and see.”

I recall how my daughters disliked Valentine’s Day before they met their beloved ones.  Their friends with boyfriends reveled in valentine wishes, balloons, and gifts and my girls couldn’t wait for the day to end.  They certainly weren’t unloved because we loved them dearly, but romantic love seemed to rule the day, and it still does.

My beloved, my husband of 35 years, and I ceased bestowing valentines on each other years ago.  Neither one of us requires a gift to prove love for each other.  To us, the gift of spending time together means much more.

So there won’t be hearts and flowers or even chocolate candy dispensed at our house…well, there might be some chocolates pulled out of the kitchen pantry to share.  But love means much more than candy.

I read a newspaper article (yes, I’m a dinosaur who still reads my news in print form) this week about reaching out, especially on this day, to the unloved, the lonely, and those who’ve lost their beloved ones.  It made me think.  What if we did put a little love in our hearts by serving others?  You know, take that love and spread it around to our fellow humans….put a little love in someone else’s heart?

There’s an old saying that love isn’t love until you give it away.

So what if instead of spending ridiculous amounts of money on Valentine’s Day cards and gifts, we shared our love by donating money to a worthy cause in our loved one’s name? What if we called that friend who’s feeling lost, lonely, or unloved today and told her/him how much we care?

We can hand over gifts or donate to charity, but if we do so without love, it means nothing. We really have to have love in our hearts!

1 Corinthians 13:1-3 says,  “If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.”

Verses 4-8 tells us, “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.   Love never fails.”

When I teach young people about relationships, I tell them that love is an action word.  And the best way to test whether you practice love for another is to insert your name in place of the word ‘love’ in that passage of scripture.

So if I truly have love in my heart, I should be able to say, “Cindy [my name, but you can insert yours] is patient, Cindy [your name] is kind.  Cindy does not envy, Cindy does not boast, Cindy is not proud.  Cindy does not dishonor others, Cindy is not self-seeking, Cindy is not easily angered, Cindy keeps no record of wrongs.  Cindy does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  Cindy always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”

And when I do all of that, put love in my heart and spur it into action,  I can truly say “Love never fails.”

It’s Valentine’s Day.  The day of love.  I’m writing it on my heart that today is the best day of the year because I love and am loved, but even more than that, I can put a little love in the heart of someone else.

May you love and be loved this day and be encouraged to put love into action.

©2013 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com 

Love times three

Love.

That’s the Word Press photo challenge theme this week.

Ordinarily, our thoughts latch onto romance when we think of love.

But the pictures I choose to depict love this week are love of a different kind.

My photos show my three adult children spreading God’s love

to three little children in three third-world countries

during three separate short-term mission trips.

Love times three.

Love times three.

©2013 mamasemptynestwordpress.com

Surprise!

He proved to be a surprise from the beginning and he continues to be, even now.

Over 24 years ago, my husband and I decided our family was complete.  We had two sweet little daughters and were happy with our life the way it was.  A unit of four.   Even numbers.  We fit neatly and nicely in a restaurant booth.  I had two hands which could hold two little hands safely when we crossed the street.

And then….surprise.   I found out I was pregnant with our third child.  We recalculated.  Readjusted.  Readied ourselves to become a family of five.

At my scheduled sonogram, we strained to see if we could determine the sex of our unborn child.  But back then, sonograms weren’t as refined as they are now.  A strong, beating heart was visible and we could determine a head and body but as the technician rotated her wand over and over the bottom half of our child, we couldn’t see any gender determining ‘parts.’

So we naturally assumed we were having another girl.  Three of a kind.  It fit with our family history because I was the youngest of three girls and my husband was the youngest of three boys.  We were so confident our child was another sugar and spice and everything nice little sweetheart that we only chose a girl’s name for our soon to be newborn.

Awakened at dawn with substantial labor pains, we happily trotted off to the hospital leaving our two angels sleeping and in the good hands of my parents, who had traveled half-way across the country to care for the girls while hubby and I got down to the serious business of birthing.

This was my third child, I had pre-determined that labor would not be difficult.  “I’ll just pop this little one out in no time,” I thought.  Surprise.  Labor seemed to drag on and on and on!  At one point, I seriously wondered if this child wanted to be born.   Finally after more hours of labor than it took for my second child, medical personnel wheeled me into the delivery room.

A healthy nine pound baby emerged.  Surprise!  “It’s a boy!” my doctor announced.  Puzzled, I think I asked, “WHAT???”

Reassured by my husband that indeed I had just given birth to a baby boy, a son, I distinctly remember remarking, “Oh, he doesn’t have a NAME!”

Surprise.  We bantered boys’ names back and forth for most of the day while Unnamed Baby Boy slept in our arms.  And then….surprise again.  My dad, who never offered much advice unless you asked for it, suggested a name.  Not just a first name, but a full name – first and middle – and it was a good, sound, strong name.  And so, Baby Boy was named by his maternal grandfather.

My little guy, this little fellow, who surprised us so when he was born on this day 24 years ago and is now a fully grown, independent adult, has never stopped surprising us.

Over the years, our son has surprised us with so many aspects of his life.  Born of parents who had no particularly stellar athletic prowess, our son thrived in the world of sports – soccer, baseball, basketball, track and field.  He determinedly gave his all and excelled, even setting track records at his high school and earning a championship finals medal.

Academically, he also surprised us. After a few years of elementary school report cards that only evaluated students with vague ‘grades’ such as M’s (meeting expectations) and E’s (exceeding expectations), our son attended a new school when we moved back to the homeland shortly before his fifth grade year.

When he brought home his first report card with letter grades based on percentages, he surprised even himself.  He earned all A’s and remarked, “Mom, I didn’t know I was so smart!”

And surprise… that academic trend continued.  Our son astonished us when he graduated first in his high school class as valedictorian, making the grandfather, who named him and had graduated from the same high school 68 years previously, so very proud.   Deciding early to only apply to one college, which also happened to be difficult to get into, and being accepted shouldn’t have surprised us, but it did.

Our son has the zaniest sense of humor, another surprising aspect.  He literally  makes everyone in our family howl with laughter.  Whether it is doing a believable yet hysterical impersonation of a dinosaur on the loose or arriving home at Christmas time wearing a tacky red sweater festooned with jingle bells and candy canes, he always makes us laugh, loudly and soundly.    Aristotle once said, “The secret to humor is surprise.”  Our son understands this philosophy well.

But even more surprising is our son’s character.  Oh, we struggled with the same teenage angst that all parents and sons endure as he tried to assert his independence.  I vividly recall the day in his college years that he firmly explained to me that I should not call him “my baby” any longer because he was a man.  I remember feeling a little angry, a bit hurt, but soon I realized he was right and that surprised me.

Our son has always amazed us with two vital traits  – his respect for us (his parents), for others, and also for himself, and his utmost love for God.  Strong in his faith and loyal to family and friends, our son tries to be a friend to all.  I truly believe he strives diligently to be a man after God’s own heart.

So this year, his 24th year of life as of today, our son has surprised us yet again by announcing he is ready to become a husband.  What didn’t surprise us was his choice, a lovely young woman who he soon will take for a wife.

Happy Birthday, my beloved son.  When God gave you to us to complete our family of five, He blessed us immeasurably.  I love you and I’m so proud of the man of integrity you have become.  Thank you for the joy, the fun, the laughter, and all of the surprises you have given us.   No doubt, more surprises are yet to come.

This post on your birthday, this wonderful day in my book of Opportunity, is my way of surprising you!

“There is no surprise more magical than the surprise of being loved.” ~  Charles Morgan

Copyright ©2012 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Love mail in the post

You know what would make me happy on Valentine’s Day?  Not a big old pink satin heart-shaped box of chocolates, not a gigantic bouquet of red roses, not even a diamond necklace. (But don’t tell my husband in case he’s going to surprise me!)

Nope.  A mailbox full of good mail.  Mail delights me.  And a mailbox full of valentines would make me squeal with joy on this day of love in my book called Opportunity.

I’m not talking email, but good old fashioned letters sealed in envelopes, letter or business size; addressed to me; adorned with one of a myriad of stamp designs; and delivered to my country mail box by my faithful mailperson.

I’m not a particularly ardent fan of Dilbert, created by cartoonist Scott Adams.  But his cartoon in which Dilbert announces, “I get mail; therefore I am,” resonates with me.  Yes sir, Dilbert, I so get the memo on that one and totally identify with your philosophy, even if you are being sarcastic.

As long as I can remember, getting mail has been a significant aspect of my day.  I have always been enchanted by receiving mail and Christmas time, when my mailbox gets stuffed with cards from friends near and far, sends me into sheer bliss.  I’ve actually tussled with family members over who gets to open the Christmas cards each day, and I’m a little ashamed to admit I want to be first!

Getting mail is a daily ritual I don’t like to miss, whether it’s stopping by my mailbox on my way home from the office or walking up my long, gravel driveway to retrieve the mail on my day off.   Want to make me giddy with glee?  Put something in the post for me!

What caused this quirky facet of my personality? How did receiving mail become such a priority in my life?   I’m not certain, but I can remember as a very young child asking my parents every day if there was any mail for me.  Sadly, the answer was always no until one miraculous day.

I can honestly recall the very first time I ever received mail addressed only to my 4-year-old self. That day was a day like no other.  It was a day – actually Valentine’s Day – when the universe seemed to acknowledge that I existed.   It was such a monumental occasion that I still remember – even now –  the feeling I encountered when my mom uttered the magical words, “You’ve got mail!”

A captivating communiqué just for me! Charming correspondence addressed to me!  Exciting epistle delivered to me!  It was a phenomenal moment.

The envelope was large and my name and address were written on it in strong, sure handwriting that looked familiar – distinguished handwriting that I would discern and recognize as I got older.  On the right hand corner of the envelope was a 4-cent stamp.   (Yep, it only cost four cents to send a letter back then.)  Inside that envelope was a comical greeting card with a crazy cartoon cat.   The card was a Valentine and it was signed, “Love, Your Daddy.”

Yes, I had an amazing father, whom I loved and cherished, and he made me feel very special.  And that very first piece of mail he sent to me was, and still is, a treasure.  Over 50 years later, I still possess that piece of mail, envelope and all, preserved in my memento box.

What makes me disheartened today is that people don’t send mail like they did in the past.  Letters and cards don’t magically arrive in my mailbox on a daily basis.   Instead there are unwanted advertisements, unsolicited requests for monetary contributions for causes or political campaigns, bills (there’s always lots of those), or an occasional catalog.

The crusade to perform all your communication electronically seems to have won the day for most people.  So tell me, what will a little girl save in her memory box? Will she really remember that one time her daddy sent her an email or a text message?

As often happens, my mind turns to spiritual thoughts as I write this.  Wouldn’t it be amazing, I think, to get mail from God?

You open your mail box to discover a brilliantly luminous envelope addressed in your name and written in exquisite gold filigree lettering.  Turning the envelope over, you get a whiff of the most fragrant sealing wax on the back, embossed with “I  AM.”

You carefully slit open the envelope to find the most beautifully textured, translucent piece of vellum your hands have ever touched.   Unfolding it, your eyes fall upon these words, “My Dearest Daughter (or Son) …”

You can’t wait to behold what this magnificent missive, this lustrous letter has to impart to you.

Eagerly you continue reading, “I have known you and loved you even before I created you.  Why do you think I have never ‘sent’ you anything before this letter?   I sent you my love and faithfulness (Psalm 57:3).  I sent you my one and only Son,  Jesus Christ, so you may have eternal life. (John 3:16)  I sent you the Counselor, the Holy Spirit, to teach you all things and remind you of everything Jesus said. (John 14:26)  And I have sent you my living and holy Word to read for understanding and guidance.  Dear beloved one, I send you ‘mail’ every day.   All you have to do is have faith, believe in me, communicate with me in prayer and read my daily mail.   Love beyond measure, Your Eternal Father God.”

You’ve got mail.  All you have to do is open up your mailbox (your Bible) to find it.  On this day and everyday,  God sends His love in the post.  And that’s the best Valentine we could receive.

Copyright ©2012 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

(Written with excerpts from a 2010 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com post)

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Brides R Us

My regular followers may have noticed Mama’s Empty Nest has been a bit absent on the blogging scene the last few days.

Matter of fact, for two consecutive days, Mama didn’t even turn on her laptop.  That has to be some kind of record!

Never fear though, Mama’s not MIA (missing in action).  I am, however, definitely in action – wedding planning action, that is.

In between chiropractor, dental, and car maintenance appointments, and – oh yeah – that crazy little thing called work, the last week or so has been chock full o’ nuts activity.

Mama’s feathers are ruffled, not in an agitated way but in a feverish mode, from a flurry of flying here and there.

With one family wedding scheduled for late spring (middle daughter) and two – yes, two! – planned for fall (son and oldest daughter), the nest is ensconced in a full tilt tizzy.  It’s a joyful tizzy, but still a tizzy nevertheless.

Can I declare right here and now that I’m ever so relieved to have only two daughters, not three?  Way back when son was born, we felt fairly certain we would be dealt “three of a kind” and our third child would be another girl.  Pleasantly surprised with a son instead, we were given a “pair and a spare.”

I didn’t think much then, when our children were 5, 2 ½, and a newborn, about their future weddings.    But wow!  I’m sure thinking about that now! Being the mother of a groom is a piece of cake (pun intended) compared to the responsibilities of the bride’s parents.

So as son and fiancée start planning their nuptials, I’m happy to just come along for the ride. But my ode to joy isn’t just because I only have two daughters’ weddings to plan; joy’s derived from the pleasure of watching all three of my children find their true loves.

So on to the flurry!  Both of my girls ventured out of the city back to our country empty nest for a wedding planning marathon last weekend.   Starting out Saturday, we launched a gift registry mission for middle daughter with a trip to the suburbs.  Her groom, swamped in time consuming grad school classes in the state next door, is pretty much unavailable for preparation activities such as this until just shortly before the wedding.

First let me mention that this is the daughter who truly dislikes shopping.  She’s one of those “get in, get what you want, get out” type of shoppers.  Definitely not a shop til you drop kind of girl.

With that knowledge fully recognized, this mom expected to have to convince, cajole, and coerce to keep my darling daughter focused on the task at hand – completing a gift registry.  Imagine my shock and awe when I realized we were in one store completing her bridal gift registry for a grand total of five hours!  You read that correctly – five hours!

We had an amazingly helpful store associate assisting us in our quest (until her shift was over!).   And we truly had fun!  It overjoyed this mama to see middle daughter so excited over choosing prospective wedding gifts from china patterns to pig-shaped bag clips and oldest daughter helping.  We laughed, we oohed, we joked, we aahed, we marveled, we zapped her finds on the hand-held register.

It was akin to an episode of the three musketeers.  Armed with the store device instead of swords, we came, we divided, and we conquered!  And then the weary wedding planners headed home to recoup because the next day guaranteed to be another day of going bridal.

Sunday we ventured back to the ‘burbs for a large bridal show.  Vendor after vendor paraded their wedding fare to both of my girls.   As we approached each booth, the vendor would ask, “Who’s the bride?”

My girls would smile demurely and I’d reply, “Both of them!”

Vendor would ask my daughters, “Are you friends?  Sisters?”

“Sisters!” came the happy answer.  “Getting married in the same year.”

Vendor’s attention refocused on good ol’ Mama, eyeing me up carefully saying, “Ooooooooh!”

I then laughingly retorted, “And that’s not all!  My son is getting married this year too!”

Their eyes widened, mouths forming that proverbial O, and probably money signs appeared in their brains with that cah-ching sound.  I firmly believe that when you admit the items you seek are for a wedding, the price suddenly sky-rockets, and then take that times three!  Cash cow!

But what a day we had!  We sampled wedding cakes, cupcakes, chocolate covered strawberries, chocolate covered pretzels, and candy favors until we were dizzy on a sugar high and oldest daughter developed real food hunger crankiness.

We saw everything you can imagine you might want to rent/purchase for a wedding and then some.  Flowers, gowns, venues, photographers, DJs, limos, decorations, services ranging from dance lessons to make-up to chiropractic to wild bachelorette party ideas.  You name it, it was there.

After registering for every door prize being offered in addition to a slew of other give-aways, we tasted macaroni and cheese cupcakes and tiny toasted cheese sandwiches with a tomatoey dipping sauce from one caterer.  Both were scrumptious, by the way.

And just as the weight of our shopping bags full of brochures, catalogs, and coupons became a heavy load to carry and our legs and feet tired from all the standing and walking (especially Mama) we welcomed the chance to sit and enjoy an hour long fashion show featuring wedding gowns, veils, bridesmaid dresses, and tuxes for the men.

Alas, my girls didn’t win one give-away item (I really hoped one of them might win the all-expense paid honeymoon cruise) so we loaded our tired selves into middle daughter’s car and headed home to the nest.  And there, we hauled out all our gleanings, searched for more ideas on the internet, and the girls pinned their finds on Pinterest.

It’s official.   Wedding planning has taken over our thoughts, our discussions, our very lives, at least for the women in the family.   But don’t worry, Papa had his moment in this marriage madness.  While Mama helped middle daughter register for wedding gifts, Papa was getting measured for the tuxedo for her nuptials.  He also was pleased to hear we found a reasonably affordable DJ for the first wedding in the line-up.

I think he enjoyed hearing his daughters gush about our two days of going bridal but realistically plan their lovely yet affordable weddings.  He loves his girls and wants them both to have a memorable wedding day.

And that’s what it’s all really about – love – because I know that every day in my book of Opportunity, love gives us such joy.  And love is a beautiful thing.

Copyright ©2012 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

As friendship blossomed

It all began in an impoverished third world country over three years ago.

She was on a short-term mission trip there, ministering to the needy.   Her earlier trip to Africa ignited a growing desire within her to help those who had so much less than she did.

So when an opportunity arose at her church to travel on this trip, she was determined to go.  Once there, she boarded a school bus with her companions en route to an area of need.   In her own words, she sat beside a young man already on the bus because he “was cute.”

That meeting between the young man and young lady turned into a friendship and they kept in touch even though they lived in different states.  The next year, they both journeyed again to this foreign land for another short-term mission and their friendship continued to blossom.

Somewhere along the line, long after their first meeting, friendship developed into a dating relationship.  Eventually, their admiration for one another evolved into a deeper, richer emotion…love.  Someone once said, “Love is a friendship caught on fire.”  That statement could aptly illustrate this couple’s relationship.

The young lady waited a long time for her true love to come along.  She’s learned a lot about herself in the meantime, and she’s experienced her share of heart break in the past.   Because of that, I imagine she probably protected herself a bit in the beginning of this relationship, not wanting to rush into anything blindly.

But this young man didn’t give up; he persevered.  He just kept being her friend, encouraging her, making her laugh, treating her with kindness and respect, and hoping and praying that someday she would feel for him what he felt for her.

A passage from the Bible found in 1 Corinthians, Chapter 13, is often quoted when people write about love.    “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.   It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.   Love never fails.”

I believe you could insert both of these young people’s names in place of the word love in this passage and it would be an accurate description of their relationship.  How do I know this?  The young lady is my oldest daughter and the young man is her newly betrothed.

I’ve watched from afar as he patiently waited for their friendship to blossom into a romantic relationship.  My husband and I have witnessed firsthand how this man cares for my daughter, how he honors her and wants to be certain she is safe and protected.  Her father and I believe this young fellow, who shares a deep faith with our daughter, will cherish her as his wife.  That is one of the reasons we gave our blessing to him when he asked us for her hand in marriage.

Yes, there is another engagement in our family!  On New Year’s Eve, oldest daughter’s best beau proposed to her in a clever, sweet way and she said yes!  We are blessed beyond measure because all three of the children who grew up here in the empty nest are soon to be married!

On the first day of this brand new year of life, I wrote about the word I’m pursuing in my book of Opportunity -  joy!  Talk about joy!  It overflows from my heart, my smile, my words!

It will be an incredibly busy year with not just one wedding, as we planned, but three!  I’m sure my stress level will increase, but you know what?  So will my joy level!  Actually, it will triple as we gain another family member in our circle of love.

“The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched – they must be felt with the heart.” ~ Helen Keller

And one of those beautiful things felt with the heart is joy.

Copyright ©2012 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

To capture a heart

“Anyone can catch your eye, but it takes someone special to catch your heart.”  ~Author Unknown

I surreptitiously observe him as he so capably takes care of the matter at hand.

My eyes take in the sight of him, so tall, so strong, and so athletic.

My mind marvels at his accomplishments, his intelligence, his confidence, but most importantly, his devoted heart for Christ.

And lastly, my emotions overwhelm me because wasn’t it just yesterday that this grown, mature man was my baby son?

I blinked and the adorable little baby I cradled in my arms with kisses and snuggles became an adventurous, fun-loving little boy, who still loved cuddling and mama’s hugs.

I blinked yet again and that sweet little boy turned into a stubborn, strong-willed teenager who, even though often tempted not to, still managed to obey and respect his parents and endure his mama’s embraces.

Another blink, and that teenager changed into an independent young adult man, capable of taking care of himself and embarking on a career with great responsibility, but still asking advice from mama and papa here and there.

And now, the time has come.   Last month, our son, this man, informed us during a serious discussion about life that he is in love with his girlfriend.  Matter of fact, he is so much in love, he shared with us his plans to ask her parents for her hand in marriage.

During our conversation about this serious step, what constitutes true love and the commitment of marriage, he maturely answered our questions and assured us that he is more than ready to meet the responsibility of being a providing husband and someday a father.

My mama’s heart ached with this knowledge, not because I wasn’t elated for him or totally in agreement about how wonderful his devoted young lady is, but because my little boy has surely become an adult man.  He is my youngest child, yet he most assuredly is not a child.  And I can hardly believe that this time has arrived so soon.

Gracious girlfriend’s parents also posed questions for our son when he asked for their blessing to propose to their daughter. They willingly granted their permission while agreeing not to reveal their discussion to her since he desired to surprise his beloved with the proposal.

Our son immediately launched into designing her engagement ring (he is a mechanical engineer with a creative side and such things give him pleasure).  He emailed us the computer model design of the ring to view and I could see his loving touches in it.

While Son and Girlfriend were here for  Christmas Eve, he secretly showed the beautiful ring to us. He also disclosed his romantic proposal plan which would occur in her hometown in the state next door on the day after Christmas.

I’ve silently watched the two of them together when they’ve come to visit the empty nest.  Even from first meeting, I could ascertain that this lovely young lady had captivated my son.  But I also could see that this wasn’t merely infatuation or a superficial attraction, there was a deeper level of kinship between them.

She hadn’t just caught his eye, she captured his heart.   But the bond that ties them together so perfectly is their love for their Savior, Jesus Christ;  He is first in their relationship and that makes a huge difference.

The apple of my son’s eye and captor of his heart will be good for him; she is strong, mature, and independent and their personalities complement one another.  She will help motivate him when he needs it and together they will be a good team.

Three nights ago, this excitedly ecstatic couple phoned to tell us she said yes!  (“Why wouldn’t she?” this mother thought.)

And so another wedding will take place in our family, and we will gain a beautiful (inside and out) daughter-in-law.   On this 29^th page, Chapter 12, in my Opportunity book, I couldn’t be more happy, even though tears trickle from my eyes flooding my vision as I write this – no, not tears of sorrow,  tears of joy.

I’m delightfully contented because Mama’s Empty Nest is filling up with more family members.  As our circle enlarges, my heart swells with love.

“Love will make your eyes shine, your face beam, your heart sing, and your life full.” ~ Author Unknown

©2011 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Burning off the fog

The revolving door at Mama’s Empty Nest never stopped spinning over Thanksgiving.

A whirlwind of activity from last Wednesday until yesterday evening kind of left me in a fog this morning, much like this picture outside my kitchen window.

The door rotated open first when Oldest Daughter and Best Beau drove up from the city Wednesday evening.  BB made the trip up from one of those states down south to spend Thanksgiving with us…well, mostly to spend it with Oldest Daughter.  This one is definitely a keeper, and it has been a blessing to watch their relationship deepen from friendship to something more.

Again the door blew open later that night when Son arrived from his long trek from the state next door.  Mama put some finishing touches on Thanksgiving goodie preparations, and we basked in each other’s company until our eyelids started drooping.

Early Thanksgiving morning, Middle Daughter,  white scrubs clad and surprisingly talkative and chipper despite having just worked a 12-hour nursing shift at her hospital plus a drive home from the city, pushed open the revolving door.  Faithful Fiancé couldn’t join us as he didn’t have much time off from his graduate school studies in the state on the other side of us.

With all of the chicks back in the nest once again, I think Middle Daughter pined a bit for her true love and was too excited to be home with her siblings to want to nap.  But gradually she nodded off on the love seat while watching the Thanksgiving Day Parade on TV (another family tradition).

We feasted on turkey and all the trimmings, including Mama’s kids’ favorite, frog eye salad, but not before we each took turns around the table to count and name our blessings, one by one.  As I surveyed the beloved faces gathered at the table and listened to each item for which they were thankful, a realization suddenly dawned on me.

Next year, when I carefully position my mother’s china on the Thanksgiving table, there will be more place settings, but more importantly, there will be more beloved faces.  Middle Daughter and Faithful Fiancé will be a married couple, so our family will increase by one for certain.

Mama’s also alerted to inklings about more exciting news in the empty nest, so I suspect our family will welcome two others, Oldest Daughter’s Best Beau and Son’s Gracious Girlfriend, sometime soon.   As I savored the opportunity to glimpse into the future, it filled me with joy and I silently uttered thanks to the One who ordains our days.

Whoosh!  That revolving door swept open again.  One of Son’s buddies from high school stopped by for a visit and we all commenced a lively game of Qwelf around the kitchen table.   Another spin of the door, and my sister and brother-in-law joined us from their celebration at their son’s in-laws.  The table expanded and Thanksgiving morsels spread out once again.

And just as the door brought them in one by one or two by two, the door opened again to allow their departure.  High school buddy left first, followed by my sister and her hubby.   Son departed to journey to his girlfriend’s family’s home for the remainder of the weekend.

Friday afternoon, more of Mama’s favorite people stepped through the revolving door on their way out.  Oldest Daughter and Best Beau exited to drive south for BB’s family Thanksgiving; Middle Daughter ventured westward to visit Faithful Fiancé.

And Mama and Papa were left with a closed revolving door.  And oodles of Thanksgiving leftovers.  And countless Thanksgiving blessings.

There was no cause for despair though, the door whirled open once more yesterday evening as Son and Gracious Girlfriend visited for a short while on their way back East.

So even though fog crept in this morning, in Chapter 11, Page 28 of my Opportunity book, the love and bonds of family light up my heart and the warmth left there burns off the fog, that misty wrapping of melancholy that once filled the empty nest.  The revolving door will once again burst open because this house, even though it’s the empty nest,  is home.

“When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us.”  ~ Alexander Graham Bell

©2011 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

2 good 2 be 4 gotten

Image source: en.wikipedia.org

Back in the day before kids wrote spitefully mean things about one another on Facebook, Twitter, and other social networking media, they actually wrote pleasant words in something called an autograph book.

Instead of ‘sexting’ obscene photos to each other, they would  draw funny, harmless illustrations, with an actual writing instrument like a pencil or pen,  in your autograph book for you to remember them by.

Autograph books became passé eventually.  But if you’re of a certain era, you’ll remember those small hardbound books and you might even have one stashed away in a box of school mementos like I do.  I actually own three of these little gems from my elementary and junior high school days.

All this simple fad required was taking your book to school with you and asking your classmates to sign it.  Mine had different pastel colored pages,  and I still remember the girl who wrote, “Just because I’m writing on pink doesn’t mean that I stink.”    I never thought she was stinky, so I always wondered why she wrote that particular ditty.

Friends penned funny lines in my book like “Yours till the ocean wears rubber pants to keep its bottom dry” and “I love you, I love you, I love you divine.  Please give me your bubblegum, you are sitting on mine!”  One silly friend wrote, “I went to your funeral.  The preacher did say, This is the shell, the nut has passed away.”

Some entries proved sweet and sentimental like “In the golden chain of friendship, consider me a link” and “In the ocean of friends, count me as a permanent wave.”  As a young girl, I always hoped some handsome young man would write something endearing in my book and my wish came true with this one:  “Roses are red, violets are blue.  Sugar is sweet, but I love you.”

On one special page, my elderly grandfather signed his name.  Nothing more.  Just his name.  But I treasure that signature since both of my maternal grandparents died six months apart from one another when I was nine.

My mother purchased all three autograph books for me and I realize now that she must have wanted me to cherish memories of my school years just as she did.  When my parents passed away and my sisters and I were clearing out all those years of accumulation at our folks’ house, we found our mother’s autograph book from school days dated 1929 to 1934.

The rhyming lines written in my mother’s book are clever and poetic.  I suspect children today don’t memorize poetry very much like those youngsters of yesteryear.  I’d like to share some of the sentiments from my mother’s autograph book and a simpler day and age with you along with my thoughts in parenthesis.

“Remember me well, remember me sick.  And when you buy candy, remember me quick. Your friend, Hazel” (Hopefully, Hazel wasn’t just my mother’s friend when she had candy.)

“Roses are red, pumpkins are yellow.  You’re the girl that stole my fellow. Your friend, Margaret” (Well, at least Margaret was still her friend!)

“When hills and vales divide us and you no more I see, pick up your pen and paper and write a line to me. Your friend, June”  (Friends whether they were near or far.)

“Far out on the ocean carved on a rock are these three words, forget me not.  A friend, Eleanora” (Isn’t that a sweet thought?)

“Remember me and bear in mind, a good true friend is hard to find.  But when you find one good and true, change not the old one for the new.  Your classmate, Marie” (Marie understood friendship well.)

“When you get old and ugly as people often do, remember that you have a friend that’s old and ugly too. Your friend, Esther Olive” (This dear lady is still alive at age 92, elderly but she’s certainly not ugly!)

“A wish for a friend is often given, but my wish for you is a home in heaven.  Your dear friend, Mildred Marie” (Since Mildred Marie cared about my mom’s spiritual life, she was a dear friend.)

“When you get old and are mending britches, think of me between the stitches.  Your friend, Carrie Belle” (This dear lady sewed a lot of stitches right beside my mother over the years.)

“I dipped my pen into the ink and grasped the album tight, but for my life I could not think a single thing to write.  H.R.” (This gentleman was my mother’s cousin – a man of few words but a kind soul.)

My uncle wrote this one in my mother’s book:  “Germany is a country but Texas is a state.  I can see it on your face when you have a date.”    (Since the word date was underlined, I think he suspected a romance was in the works for my mother and his brother, my father, don’t you?)

This entry tickles me pink.  “Remember me and don’t forget you have a friend in [our town].  Pickles are sour, sugar is sweet.  Candy is sticky and the [our town] girls are very tricky.”   (I laugh out loud when I read this one, not just because the verse is silly, but because of the writer’s initials signed at the bottom of the page.  Those initials belonged to my father.)

Out of all the clever, corny, or cherished verses written in my mother’s autograph album, I really like this one:

“When your walk on earth is ended and your paths no more I trod, may your name in gold be written in the autograph of God. Your cousin, Mabel” (I am thankful both my parents’ names are written in the Book of Life.)

My favorite entry though is one written and dated January 8, 1963 in one of my autograph books.  It reads:  “Dear Daughter, I wish I were a tea cup from which you drank your tea, and every time you’d take a sip, you’d think of your mommie.  Lots of love, Mum.”

On this chilly day, Chapter 10, Page 27 in my book of Opportunity, I sip steaming,  hot tea from my lovely tea cup given to me by one of my own dear daughters as I write these words.  I think of my mother, her life, and all the things she taught me like cherishing memories from an old, faded autograph book.  I think she taught me well and I pray I’ve taught my own daughters the same.

Copyright ©2011 mamasemtpynest.wordpress.com