Dear Mom and Dad ~ a Christmas Letter

 My mom was very big on sending out a Christmas letter to family and friends.  They were always short and to the point, sometimes even just a little poem.  Apparently, short and to the point is not exactly my gift:

Dear Mom and Dad,

A year ago today, mom, you walked from this earth into eternity, and I’m sure daddy was there to meet you. I know that in heaven a thousand years is like a day ~ so I suppose this year has been just a blink for you.  For us, 365 days have turned into a year just like they always do, so I thought you might appreciate hearing how we’ve passed the time.

We waited till after the holidays for your memorial service, mom, so more people could make the trip.  Well, let me tell you – that celebration of your life also turned out to be quite a reunion!  Many dear friends from your Victory Chapel days were there and we had a party that would have made you very happy!   Stories about you two were shared by several people; it was beautiful to be reminded how much you were and always will be loved.  A few of the loved ones there that day have joined your party in heaven since then.   I’m sure you were both there to welcome them!

Mom, your little brother Howard turned 80 in March, and there was a surprise party planned!  You’ll be happy to know that we three kids and cousin Becky decided that after saying goodbye to both of you and aunt Norma within 11 weeks’ time, we’d had enough funerals for awhile and it was time for a party!  And so, we went on a road trip.  Daddy, you would have been so proud!  I drove almost the whole way, and we made it straight through to Portland in less than 17 hours, including snow through the Shasta area.  And yes, we did stop to eat!  Uncle Howard was really surprised and it was such a fun party and a great chance to reconnect with so many cousins we hadn’t seen in years.   We laughed an awful lot on that trip, and even took a driving tour of all the houses our family lived in in Portland, and even found a few that you had built, dad.  It was a very, very good thing to do. 

Nikki graduated from Point Loma Nazarene University in May.  You would have been so proud of your granddaughter that day! We had a great group of family and friends there (even Kristin came out from Charlotte) and we made lots and lots of noise, just like you would have.  It was the first big event without you, and you were missed!  Ron gave Nikki your beautiful silver candelabra and we made sure to decorate the table with them at her party, so your practice of always using the nice things instead of storing them away kept your memory alive for us.

Daddy, I celebrated your birthday on May 18^th in one of your favorite places – Yosemite!!  As I rode my bike around Yosemite Valley that day, my mind wandered to how very important it was to you to share that beautiful place with your family.  I was awestruck, still, at the majesty of Yosemite.  It made me wonder about how you discovered it long before I was born, and what made you return there again and again.  It’s a story I guess I will never know. 

Meanwhile, Chris started working at Albertson’s as a courtesy clerk and really likes the job and his coworkers   They seem to like him very much, as well, which I know wouldn’t surprise you in the least.  He managed to save almost everything he earned over the summer to help reach his dream of going to Europe in the fall.

Speaking of Europe, the four of us spent a whirlwind 10 days in Italy in early June.  What an amazing experience!  I so wish I could sit with you and share our photos of Rome, Florence, Venice and everything in-between.  You gave me the “travel bug,” and guess what?  It’s contagious.  The kids have it now.

This fall brought a true empty nest for us, at least for a few months.  Nikki went back to San Diego, got a job in a physical therapy clinic and is taking classes to prepare for graduate school where she will study to be a physical therapist.  She is sharing an apartment with two friends, and is doing it all on her own.  Her future is bright, indeed!  Chris left on September 9^th for London where he learned to truly be an independent adult while living in an apartment in Kensington and attending classes at the University of London Union.  He earned 12 units for college while there, and was happy to earn the best grades of his life!  He came home in time for Christmas and will return to APU in January.  He’s on his way to a great future, grandma & grandpa!

In November, Jim and I spent a week in Florida not watching the last launch of the Space Shuttle Discovery.  We were invited by an astronaut.  No kidding!  As of this writing, the Discovery is still not in space.  I know, I know - better safe than sorry.  But letting go of a dream is very tough sometimes, and I'm still holding out hope that when it finally launches in 2011 I will hop on a last minute flight to be there!

Not that you were worried, but I just want you to know that all in all, we have had a pretty good year.  Jim finished building a couple of beautiful custom homes and is waiting to begin remodeling a house in San Marino.  We are looking forward to having the family over for the Christmas Eve ravioli feast, and anticipate all good things in the New Year.

Most of all, I want to thank you.  Thank you for being such a wonderful mom & dad, and for the endless memories of our times together.  Thank you for the legacy you bestowed on our family.  Thank you for consistently living your lives according to the scripture,  “And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” (Micah 6:8)  

Until our joyful reunion some day, those of us left here on earth will continue to occupy our space as best we can.  We’ll be just fine.

Your loving daughter,

Tami                                             12/21/2010

Walking Mom Home

It seems there is no end to the words I am constantly putting together in my head.  I "write" all day long - life is a running narration for me; that's just how my brain works, I guess.  Unfortunately I seldom actually put it down on paper or electronic media.   During the long weekend that we were in waiting for my mom's imminent death, I read a book, mindlessly flipped through magazines and glanced at photo albums.  Finally, I pulled out the laptop and started typing.  My mom took her last breath 7 minutes after I hit the "save" button.   I think it's time to share it with you:

This is hard. This business of watching someone die. Really, really HARD. But as with all things that are hard, it has had its joys, as well. Right now I suppose I can’t think of any, but I am sure they are there. My dad went quickly, just over two months ago. We barely said good-bye. Now it’s mom’s turn, and the good-byes seem endless. It’s a paradox, really. You want it to be over, but you never want it to be over, for that means your beloved mom is gone. But I promised myself I would walk my mom Home, and, along with my brother and sister and my husband, that is what I’m doing.


Sitting for days watching the natural progression of death, or THE PROCESS as we have come to know and hate the phrase, causes a person to evaluate life at its most basic level. What will my children be saying to me and about me when faced with this same scenario?


Actually, that was the easy part. And possibly the joyous part, as well. Aside from some silly quirks that we loved to tease her about, my mom was darn near perfect. I’m not kidding. This woman, born on a farm in the midst of a great flu epidemic, was tough as nails. A self-described tomboy, she grew up in a family of 5 girls and 3 boys. Her dad nicknamed her “Johnny.” Always joyful, smiling, and full of life, she had great stories, and what a storyteller she was!


And yet, she was an enigma. By the time I came along she was 40 and had lived nearly half her life. She was polished, educated, and well versed in her parenting and pastoring skills. She always said I was a compliant child, so I guess that didn’t hurt, but she had this way about her that just made me want to please her. Spanking wasn’t necessary – it was THE LOOK that made me want to do the right thing, and never disappoint this amazing Woman of God. I wouldn’t be truthful if I said I actually accomplished that….. But that’s another story.


Yes, I was the youngest daughter of a lady preacher. It made for an interesting life, to say the least. She was a tell-it-like it is, no-nonsense person who continually believed in her children and their greatness. Some of the most important lessons and biblical truths I learned were from watching my mom.


There was the time a man came to the door, asking for a handout. We lived in the house next to the church, and everyone knew it. I stood back as I watched her tell the man to sit on the front step while she went to the kitchen and made a sandwich. Bringing it to him with a drink, she shared Jesus’ love in a tangible way and he was grateful. When I asked her why she didn’t give the man a couple of bucks and send him on his way, she told me the Bible says that we could be entertaining angels, unaware, and proceeded to tell me a story from her childhood during the great depression. One of her most vivid memories of God’s provision was when her family sat down to eat at a table with no food. After saying grace, there was a knock. The man at the door said he was from a new bakery in town and they were delivering bread samples to the local families. That night, the large family gave thanks for a generous businessman. Upon asking around the next day, though, they could find no one who knew of this bakery. It didn’t exist. So, the family story has always been that an angel brought the loaves of bread that night. For the rest of her life, she never wavered in her belief that God would always provide what they needed. And He always did.


Being the daughter of a lady preacher in the 60’s and 70’s gave me a sense that I was part of the Women’s Movement long before it became the mainstream. I could do anything. There was no boundary that would hold me back from what I wanted to do because my mom had blasted through the ultimate glass ceiling. She was a woman doing the work of a Man of God. And she did it well. Her sermons were compelling, her counseling wise and her prophesies accurate. At home she was just “mom” to us and “Mrs. J” to my brother’s buddies, but to the rest of the world she was a force to be reckoned with.


The authority with which mom prayed and preached was not lost on me, even as a young girl. Without saying a word, she taught me about spiritual warfare and the dire consequences of taking it lightly. It seemed that the enemy was constantly on the attack, and she handled each one with a firm grace that defied what must have been going on inside of her. I knew, without her ever telling me, that if her bedroom door was closed, she was in prayer. And not the sit on the edge of your bed God Bless Yous, either. She was in the fervent, groaning in the spirit kind of prayer that turns God’s ear a little bit closer.


Her favorite saying was, “But God!” When things looked hopeless and bleak, she would say, “But God!” When she would write in her journal about the destruction in the church brought by people with jealous spirits, she would write, “But God!” When she was discouraged about family members she had prayed for without an answer, she would say, “But God!” Her faith and confidence never wavered. Ever.


So I guess walking my mom Home really started when we began our walk through life together. I have gleaned 50 years of experience and knowledge from her. Some I have used already, most I suppose I have yet to draw from. But now, in these final moments of her life they come crashing through my brain like a flash flood. It is almost overwhelming, the legacy she leaves me. I only hope I can do the same for my own children.
(December 21, 2009)

Precious

As I happily flipped over to the next page of my scripture-a-day-little-spiral-flippy-thing the other morning, the words caught me off guard:  "Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints." (Psalm 116:15)

I've always heard it - at funerals, mostly.  Death is precious. Go figure.  Babies are precious...but death? Not so much.

It's so hard for us mortals to even comprehend -- how could God count as precious that which causes the rest of us such pain?  And yet, it reminds me of the time I asked my mom if it bothered her that so many of her friends were dying at this stage in her life.  Her face literally lit up and she exclaimed, "Oh, no!  That's our HOPE!"  My perspective on death was instantly changed that day.  As the days of mom's life grew dimmer and she had her sights fixed on heaven, it became clear to me that the death of a saint is not only precious in the sight of the Lord, it is precious to the saint as well.

To Blog or Not to Blog...is that a question?

Blogging. Seems like everyone's doing it, but I certainly never intended to.  BUT I do like to write.  So, with a whisper in my head first compelling me to write a little something about a trip to the hospital with my dad last September, I began.  My daddy passed away suddenly a month later.  Unfortunately, the next time I wrote was as my mother lay on her deathbed a few weeks after that.  Grim, huh?  But not without purpose.  As I shared those two very personal narratives with friends and family, I was overwhelmed by the positive response.  People forwarding my writing to their family and friends and saying, "you really made me think."  Huh?  I am stunned, but also humbled at how God directs my life sometimes.  (I will post those two items shortly, if only to keep it a permanent record of my writing journey.)   


God's whisper to write has now become something I can't ignore: As I sort through the writings of my mom, I am feeling more and more the compulsion to write - mostly about the little bits of treasure I am finding, but I'm sure I'll throw in some random thoughts about life in general now and then, as my thoughts tend to be a running narration anyway -- maybe finally those insights will see pen to paper ~ or at least fingers to keyboard!


My dear mom was a pastor in active ministry for more than 60 years by the time of her death just before last Christmas at age 90.  As we go through her things, I find myself grabbing every single piece of paper, notebook and folder containing anything she wrote.  Another whisper from God, another compulsion... write!  Write WHAT, God?  Mom wrote so much -- it will take months to organize and figure out what to do with it all, but the thing that overwhelms me the most right now is that I must write!  Some days I sense I am to co-author a book with her, perhaps.  A prospect so overwhelming I can't imagine where to begin.  For now, though, I will write -- and share with you some of the treasures I find along the way.  Mostly this blog will be dedicated to my mom, Gladys Johnson, and of course my daddy Lloyd, too.  I hope you'll forgive me if I occasionally delve into other random topics that tickle my fancy. (For WAAAAY random topics, I'll be posting at my other blog, Blondemonium.)  In the process, I aim to follow after love the way my mom taught me by her example, and maybe encourage someone in their journey along the way.  Here's to an interesting year!