My husband, Darren, is now in both a monthly card club and a bimonthly book club. As for me, my hair is pure white at my temples and is only more subtle because I blend them with bottled blonde highlights. For these reasons our children like to tease us that we are old. But as I've told them on multiple occasions, we are merely middle-aged. Allow me a moment to sing the praises of being middle-aged: As an individual I am more focused and confident in who I am - as well as who I am not. By the grace of God, I have a 50+ years storehouse of memories, life lessons, knowledge, and fruitfulness. I value peace and make more of an effort towards it. As a couple my husband and I have been on more overnight get-aways in the last six months than in the last six years combined. Our home is cleaner, our bills are lower, and in general nobody eats the last of anything delicious without the other being okay with it. We have fewer responsibilities and more freedoms. And we are really looking forward to being grandparents someday.
Nevertheless, when we are eventually blessed to know one of our children is expecting, it will be different from us expecting. While life will immediately change for the young expectant parents (appetites, energy levels, and preparations), very little will immediately change for us, despite how much we're looking forward to it. I cherish the memories of how involved and supportive Darren was. So while all the wonderful things I extolled about middle-age are true, the season of having babies, working together to figure out the parenting thing, having family nights, and all being together most of the time, was life filled to the brim. It was a priceless season - often mutually exhausting and exhilarating, and uniquely wonderful. I am grateful beyond words for those years... And for the adults the years produced for the present and future. I would not want one without the other.
Every season of life has its wonders, challenges, and blessings. This is true whether or not a person ever gets married or has children. We all have those who impacted us, and we all leave an impact on someone else, one way or the other. Meanwhile our experiences refine us and become a part of our story. My grandma is 89 years old. I have always loved her stories. I used to request them as a child: Stories of her cow, Buttercup. Stories of going to school in a one room schoolhouse. Stories of her grandma, Verona Naomi, traveling hundreds of miles by covered wagon and later becoming a midwife delivering babies all over Summerstown, TN. She is a good storyteller; she always held my attention and left me longing for more.
It seems to me our culture has lost some of its generational storytelling. In this way I think we have lost a lot of knowledge and wisdom about ourselves and about living life. Often we learn from the "school of experience" or "hard knocks" instead. As my Granddad puts it, life often gives us the test before the lesson. Yet what if we took time to learn from others' experiences? What if we purposed to ask questions and listen more closely to the stories of those who have gone before? Not all prior "wisdom" is all that wise, nor is everything applicable to today's culture, but what if we could glean what is valuable and avoid some of the hard knocks? Or if we just heard some of ourselves in the stories - like when my grandma tells me her mom laughed easily and long and liked to "wrestle" and roughhouse - suddenly I feel more connected to her and to all the generations who have come before.
One story Grandma shared in well-spaced pieces with me was about her teenage years. When she was just 15, she ran away from her family to elope with a 20 year-old she had met only a few times. There were several contributing factors beyond the man himself. She loved her family, including her dad, but life was often difficult and painful because of his alcoholism. She also told me she had read a lot of romance novels in her young teen years, despite her dad telling her to stay away from them. Perhaps consequently, she said she had no idea what love really was. She left her family without saying a word to anyone. The next morning she was ashamed of how she had left, but what was done was done. Soon a sheriff showed up at her in-laws' home. She and the young man had illegally crossed state lines to marry. They were held in separate jail cells while things got sorted out. Of course the story goes on from there, including her dad allowing her to make the decision as to whether to stay there or return home. It was a young life filled with many hardships, heartache, and 3 babies before she was even 20.
When I was a child, many of the details of the story were left out. Still, what was shared stuck with me and made me think. I don't recall Grandma ever giving me any outright instructions on dating or men or marriage; her own story spoke volumes. She never told me not to drink or use other substances. She just told me how much she loved her dad and how much he loved her. And what a mess he often made of their lives; she was happy to get away when the young man proposed. And what a heartache that became.
A few years ago she shared more of the details with me, such as going to a relative's house and simply walking out the door to join the young man on a bus headed out of state, leaving her parents to find out later, and leaving them no clues as to what was happening. Whether it was Grandma's wisdom or the Holy Spirit's that she shared this when she did, I don't know. But it put my own parenting struggles in perspective and gave me great hope and encouragement.
My grandma's life was not an easy one. That first marriage did not last. Her first husband began drinking; it was a very bad situation. Grandma prayed often, crying out to God. She sang hymns a lot. She worked very hard and never gave up. Her parents also helped as they could, and they had relatively close relationships all their lives. Even with his flaws, my great-grandfather was characterized by love for his family and common sense parenting. There were also other provisions and support along the rocky path. (Sidebar: Often one small kindness can make a world of difference for a hurting person. Never discount what you have to offer. Never count it as too small or inconsequential. Do what you can with what you have and watch it multiply beyond your resources.)
Here's the thing though: Eventually Grandma met Granddad. They worked hard to raise the three children - daughters, which my Granddad legally adopted. They worked to create a good life for themselves and their family. Like any couple, they had to work hard to sort out their own differences and problems. And they did. They worked hard and paid it ahead for the coming generations. Including me. They set an example. An imperfect yet excellent example: of upright character, of overcoming, of learning, and of loving.
When I learned the rest of the details of my Grandma's teenage and young adult years, I realized how important it is to have hope and vision for a better tomorrow. Detours are not permanent. They may leave a permanent impact, but the type of impact is malleable. Detours may make the journey to the next destination a little longer and more challenging, but they also make the traveler stronger and more resilient if one keeps moving forward - perhaps even enabling a person to go farther than others...
These are powerful truths to me.
On a final note, let me share one of the few times my grandma and I ever had an argument. It was in January 6th, 1991, the day we brought our first daughter home from the hospital. Grandma came to visit and said our daughter ought to have t-shirt on under her long-sleeved sleeper. She was rather adamant about it. I could not see any reason why a newborn in a warm house would need a t-shirt on under her sleeper. Twenty-five years later I became an educated maternity RN... Turns out newborns have a hard time maintaining their body temperature. Even when they are able to keep it up at a normal level, it uses a great many of their calories to do so. These calories should be going towards brain development, not thermoregulation. The standard hospital protocol and educational material read something like, "To maintain health, newborns should have one additional layer more than adults." I doubt my grandma knew the physiology behind the additional layer of warmth. But I would guess her grandma set an example of it every time she delivered a baby, and good chance she shared her stories and knowledge with her granddaughter, my grandma.
So years and years later I found out Grandma was right.
I suppose sometimes we each learn the hard way.
But if you have a newborn, I hope you're reaching for a t-shirt. ;)
R to L: 1. Gma, Mom, Me, Great Gma (1968) 2. Aunt Linda, Mom, Aunt Joy with Cousin Wendy, Great Gdad with me, Gma with Cousin Jamie (1974) 3. Gma and Gdad (1980s)
Note: Title Family Photo: the Furnos during the "Full to the Brim" years (2001)
Isaiah 46:4 Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he; I am he who sustains you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you
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