Friday Tidings

Mom didn’t fully approve of my decision to get married. It wasn’t about my marrying Tom, but marrying too young. I understood her concerns. After all, we were just college juniors. We had no clue what the future held and we often acted like it. Tom and I just told people we had united dreams. Everything would work out just fine, we said. Sometimes when you jump into river rapids you learn survival skills. We did. For instance, poverty.  We adjusted to being broke. Living in our car. And then moving into the back of Tom’s 1949 Ford Pickup which was roomy in comparison. We grew veggies on our friend’s land.  Homeless? We didn’t think so, but by today’s standards one could argue we were modern pioneers in vehicle-homesteading. Then failure. Believing firmly in our capacity to be farmers without any real experience was doomed from the beginning. It just took about five years and thousands of dollars to realize it. It took another ten years to pay everyone back. We learned...

You’ve heard of preacher’s kids, I’m a librarian’s kid. Growing up in the 60’s and 70’s libraries were in transition—or at least my mom, the newly-minted city librarian thought they should be. She envisioned having colorful and imaginative children’s areas, with reading nooks, play toys and puppets.   Every one of our family vacations involved finding the local library and seeing what that city offered its children.  She lobbied the city council for more money and tried to get the community behind a building project that would see the fruition of her dreams. My mom was just a generation too soon. Now, libraries feature whole wings dedicated to children. Besides pajama party story times, there are historical dress up activities, board game events, and kids can check out musical instruments and science kits with real microscopes. Mom would be incredibly awed. So, I take my granddaughter to the public library and let her know that her great grandma would have loved it here as m...

I was walking behind my mother-in-law and her longtime friend as they slowly made their way towards their apartments. They have lived through many decades of change. They both have grown-up grandchildren, and their share of aches and pains. They’ve each lost their mates, and have found that their friendship has become more treasured in this season of life. They enjoy weekly bingo games, have their meals together, and go to concerts and celebrations hosted by their senior living community. They were once young moms and remember so many of the same things from the years they shared over a lifetime.  Wedding vows often have the words, until death do we part. Having a good friend for that long is a gift to our heart as well. It takes an investment of time, love, and a desire to value someone who will walk alongside you the rest of your journey. I smiled as I watched them walk together. And I’m thankful they have one another. A friend in the sunset years is a true gift.

Dad taught me the art of list making. He said it would help me remember to do my chores and school assignments. The best part was crossing off completed items. I still make to-do lists. But I also have another list—names of friends and family who’ve asked for prayer. Some are fighting cancer, others chronic disease. Some have tough decisions to make. A few are facing financial woes. And then there are others journeying with heart wrenching losses.  I’ll always remember praying at Jerusalem’s Wailing Wall—a poignant remnant of the old Jewish Temple—a place well acquainted with suffering. I heard prayers spoken in foreign languages—from people who’d traveled thousands of miles to pray against this ancient wall. As had I. Quiet prayers, fingers touching the wall, cheeks wet with tears. I touched the cold stones and prayed alongside them. I saw hundreds of folded notes in the cracks of the massive wall—lists of prayers left behind. I tucked my own list into a crack. Easter remin...