My mom’s unexpected passing last fall has been a challenging adjustment to say the least. Settling her estate, making arrangements, taking care of my kids as well as my own emotions has been overwhelming. It’s only recently that I’ve begun to decompress which has led to a deep sadness and mild depression including a feeling of loneliness and even anger some days. A recent visit to her house has helped changed my perspective…
Mom didn’t want a traditional burial. She wanted to be cremated and have her ashes sprinkled in her flowerbeds in front of her house. We joked for years about how difficult that would be emotionally but in the end, we honored her wishes and did it in a heartbreaking private ceremony with Amazing Grace playing in the background. What remains of her ashes are kept safely in a beautiful white urn, painted with pink peonies (her favorite flower) set on her bedroom dresser with a cross hanging from it and a sign that says “#1 Grandma in the World. “
Now when I return home, I always visit the urn first. Upon entering her room, I say “ Hi, Mom”. I hug “her” and kiss “her”. I tell her I have missed her and that I love her…just like I have done throughout my entire life. I do the same upon leaving.
In a recent trip home, I whispered “come see me tonight”. My sister Kate had talked about mom comforting her in dreams many times since she passed and I was jealous! Mom had “visited” me only once since her passing and in my childish mind I was now saying, “It’s my turn, Mom!”
I don’t know what I was expecting. I just made the request for her to come visit me. Would she come in a dream, as an apparition or in a form I wouldn’t recognize? As I drifted off to sleep later that night, I had forgotten about the request.
Waking in my childhood bedroom the next day is always a surreal experience. Staring at the same ceiling and four walls that watched me grow up, feeling the heat drift through the baseboard and listening for mom’s bedroom door creak open as she shuffled down the hall to make coffee always stirs up memories.
Only this time, mom’s door didn’t creak open that morning. The reality of “where” I was in life settled in slowly, sadly. As the sun began to peek through the window, it seemed to urge me to get up, and to go make the coffee for the next generation that might be “listening” for a creaky door. I slowly rolled over, rose and sat at the edge of the bed and got dressed.
As I went to make the bed I saw something. It was small, on top of the comforter, exactly where I had been laying. What was it I thought? Upon closer inspection, it was a lady bug. It was alive and moving towards me. It’s red colors and dark spots were unmistakable.
“Mom. Is that you?” I said softly. My mind racing. What now?
I leaned over and gently pressed my finger on the comforter and let “her” climb into my hand. Once on my hand, she stopped. Time was frozen. We stared at each other. Suddenly, I felt compelled to walk down the hall and awkwardly make coffee with her in my hand. As I had requested, “she” had come to see me and even helped me make the coffee one last time. Soon after she flew away. I couldn’t find her again but was at peace with her visit.
I have no way of knowing for sure, but I believe it was mom. You see, ladybugs had become symbolic in her life. In addition to the lady bug trinkets in the house, real lady bugs would always “visit” in the spring and fall. Now deep in the winter, it was rare to see a ladybug, let alone find one lying next to me unharmed during sleep. It certainly could be a coincidence with me asking her to visit me, and the lady bug appearing, but I believe it was her honoring my request to visit me.
Things in life aren’t always what they seem. What we ask for isn’t always given in the form we expect. Sometimes, we must take the time to “look closer” at what is and has happened, and realize that although it might not be what we wanted or “requested”, God is giving us exactly what we need. And just like mom and the lady bug, He is always with us…all we need to do is ask and be open to “look closer”.
As we packed up and began to leave the house, I again stopped in, hugged “her” and with a childish smirk on my face said:
“Thanks Mom. I love you. I miss you you. “See” you soon. Let’s see Kate beat that one! ?
The sound of the Facetime shattered the morning silence.
It was Megan. It was 7am. Nothing good has ever followed a call this early from her. Nothing. At 16, it was a car accident shortly after getting her license. At 18, a season ending ankle sprain her freshman year of college. My mind raced. Now what?
Hoping for the best, I put a smile on my face and answered: “Well, something must be wrong if you’re calling us this early…what’s up?” I said half joking.
Silence.
“Where’s mom?” Megan blurted out, tears in her eyes and crying.
“She’s in the shower. What’s wrong? Are you ok?”
“No. I tested positive for COVID.” she exclaimed.
“Ok. Ok. Try to stay calm. Let’s discuss what this means…”
Meaning. I’ve come to believe that it’s the meaning we give to life’s “storms”, not the “storm” itself that determines the quality of people’s lives. Meaning shapes our perspective, our reaction, our reality and our life. Ultimately, meaning is a choice. For Megan, this “storm” (COVID) meant fear and uncertainty…but most of all, isolation from family, friends and the sport she loved. She was panicked and at 200 miles away, we needed a safe plan fast!
“Should we bring her home?” my wife asked.
“Probably not unless we want to expose ourselves. Plus, Matt wouldn’t be able to go into school for at least 10 days afterwards and we would all need to be quarantined,” I said in frustration.
“Right. How about you and Matt stay at my mom’s and I’ll stay with her here at our house,” my wife suggested, desperate to find a solution.
“No. I don’t want to take a chance with you getting it either or having to be quarantined for another 10 days somewhere else. Too risky to me and we would never forgive ourselves if something bad happened to any of us, ” I asserted with concern.
“Ugh! There aren’t many good options. Let’s talk to Megan,” she replied.
With us being 200 Miles away and a primary caregiver for my mother in law, it was decided that Megan would stay at the campus provided quarantine housing… alone, for 10 days. Not perfect, but the best of all options.
The journey had begun. The question was what meaning would we each associate to this “storm”? Would we choose to find an empowering meaning in the path ahead or be consumed by fear, anger or paralysis?
As her mild symptoms began to disappear, a deep loneliness began to set in…a strange place, all alone, all day was taking its toll on her. Thankfully her life wasn’t at risk, but the meaning she was giving this “storm” was beginning to impact her mindset.
“I can’t do this for 7 more days! This is terrible!”, she cried aloud.
“You can do it,” my wife reassured her over FaceTime. (Thank God for technology.)
This desperation went on for days 3 through 5. We felt helpless as parents. Like we had to choose the lesser of two evils. Having her self-isolate was the right decision for the safety of everyone but it still was hard to know she would be alone for 10 days to deal with this. Thankfully she wasn’t sick.
“Dad, I need something to do. I have too much time on my hands. Can I do one of your coaching programs?” she eagerly asked.
Gleaming with pride I answered…
“Great idea. I have a new one that I would love to share with you. It’s actually a 10-day program and perfect for this situation. It’s called RESILIENCE: 10 Steps to navigating, adapting and growing in life’s storms.
“Great. Send it to me!” she said.
Over the next 10 days, she walked through my 3 building blocks of Self Love, Self-Awareness and Self Discipline. She learned 10 new habits to prepare and empower her when faced with adversity in her life and how to find an empowering meaning in any “storm”. These will require ongoing practice, and forms the habits needed for building resilience into our lives during good times and bad.
Megan has since returned to “normal” college life, thankfully with no long term symptoms or cardiac complications as far as we know. This storm may be over, but the meaning she gave to this experience and the habits she developed as a result will forever be a part of her. May God bless those still battling COVID and bring peace to those that have lost those they love.
As the Thanksgiving holiday approaches, I cannot help but think about my mom and how this year we won’t “see” her. It certainly will be different as her sudden passing has left a hole in our hearts and an “empty” seat at the table. Yet, as I reflect more, I am so grateful for what I have “seen” this year and no matter how long it will be until I “see” her again, I still “see” her everyday and everywhere.
We Still “See” You by Derrick Rumenapp
We see you in our children
We hear you in our speech
We witness all your wisdom
In the values that we preach.
We model your behaviors
We remember all you did
The sacrifices made for us
From when we were just kids.
We see you in the flowers
We hear you in the chimes
The lessons that you taught us
Are forever in our minds.
The recipes you passed down
The love you always gave
The time we spent together
Are the memories that we’ll save.
Your time with us has ended
But still you feel so close
Your pretty smile and tender touch
Is what we’ll miss the most.
Mom – you are forever in our hearts, forever in our minds, and forever in our “sight”. We love you. #Gratitude
Life is short. How will you spend it? What will you do? Who will you help? What impact will you have on others? What is the purpose of life? All questions I was faced with when I sat down to write my mom’s obituary after her sudden death…
MILFORD – Carol Ann Ferguson Rumenapp, 72, passed away unexpectedly but peacefully with family by her side Wednesday, Sept. 30, 2020, at her home in Milford. Carol was born in Weehawken, New Jersey, on Oct. 1, 1947, to Glen and Antonette “Rita” Ferguson. As a child, she enjoyed spending summers with family in West Virginia, riding horses, watching logging competitions and playing along the creek with her brother Glen, where she earned the nickname “Crock-A-Do Lolly.” She then went on to live most of her life in upstate NY on Edson Corners Road. She was a graduate of Milford Central School and pursued public service as a career, working in the Otsego County Probation Department, Otsego County District Attorney’s Office and serving as the Milford Town Judge for decades where she touched lives and hearts with her wit, humor and intellect. As a single mom, her life was a lesson in strength, resilience and perseverance. She taught us the importance of getting up early, being grateful for what we have, working hard, helping others, living in the present, spending wisely, continuously learning and always putting family and God first. Values to live your life by… She loved taking care of her flowers and growing vegetables, cooking for friends and family, maintaining a beautiful home and helping others whenever she could. Most of all, she loved being a mom, spending time with her family and spoiling her grandchildren. Smart, driven, loving, responsible, funny, generous, hard working and beautiful are words often used to describe this incredible woman. Her impact is undeniable and she will always be with us. She is survived by her best friend and life mate, Tim Knapp; son, Derrick (Amy) Rumenapp; daughter, Katie (Jason) Haag; the apples of her eye, her grandchildren, Megan and Matthew Rumenapp and Ryan Haag; brother, Glen (Janet) Ferguson; niece, Melissa (Mark) Silver and nephew, Glen Ferguson III; and nieces, Sarah Murray and Emily Silver. In celebration of her life, a small private gathering will be held at her house per her wishes. Donations in her honor may be made to the Epilepsy Foundation of Northeastern NY in Albany. We miss you dearly mom. Thank you for everything. We love you to the moon and back “Gaga”.
As I stood on the shore gazing across the water, a woman walking by abruptly stopped and asked “what are you looking at?”
I paused, taken off guard by the question.
“The lake”, I replied.
“Why, is there something out there?” She asked.
Again, I paused. Surprised by her question and more surprised that she didn’t see “it”. Admittedly though, it wasn’t the most colorful sunrise. Gray clouds filled the sky with only a narrow strip of pink light off in the distance.
“No. Just looking at the sunrise…the pink is so beautiful .” I said.
“Oh”, she said, almost disappointed at my response. Taking another look, she squinted her eyes, quickly agreeing as she continued her walk.
It made me wonder…how many spectacular things do I overlook each day due to busyness, worry and distraction in my life. How many things do I under appreciate because a fancy Snapchat, Instagram or Foodie filter wasn’t used to enhanced or alter God’s original beauty. Could I too be missing the “pink light” in my life?
Make time today to see with your own eyes. Time to notice your surroundings. Time to be grateful for the wonderful world God given us…filter and worry free. You too might find and even become “the pink” light in someone’s otherwise gray day.
I love the lake. Each day my morning routine includes getting up at sunrise and walking to the lake near my home. This 3 mile loop is when I do my best thinking and primes my mindset with “gratitude”. Gratitude for my life. For my blessings. For my family, friends, health, career and so much more.
One morning, my daughter decided to join me. As we chatted and walked nonchalantly along the meandering path of the lake, a father with his young son approached from the opposite direction.
“Hello, good morning”, I said with a smile.
“Good morning”, he replied with equal enthusiasm.
“How are you guys?” I asked, expecting the normal “good” reply.
But before the father could reply, the child, almost instinctively responded, “I’m thankful”.
The father smiled and said, “we are good, how about you”?
I was stunned and I’m sure my expression showed it.
Did a 4 year old just say “I’m thankful”? How had he learned something that took me almost 50 years to realize?
“Well, that’s a great way to be”, I replied clumsily. Have a good day.
Megan and I finished our walk that morning, sharing our amazement at the little boy’s statement and the impact he had on us.
Later that week, again on my normal morning walk, I ran into the father again. I told him how impressed I was with his son’s response of “thankful” and how rare that seems to be in the world today.
He smiled, beaming with pride and humility and said “thank you, we try”. At that moment, something my mom always said came to mind:
“Derrick, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
I’m not sure who originally said this but it captured the essence of the moment and the importance of modeling our values to those around us, especially our children. And how we are the tree and they are the “apples”.
I see the father almost daily now on my walks. He always waves and says hello…smiling at me almost like we now share a secret about life, the importance of gratitude and growing our “apples”.
What are you grateful for? Are you intentionally modeling your values to your children? Do they see this?
The coronavirus has changed the world. It has changed our lives. It has brought fear, sadness and disruption to our thoughts, emotions and the certainty we once had in our daily routine. Some have lost their faith. Some have lost their patience. Many have lost their loved ones. Life will be “different” from here on out. Different in how we act, think, work, learn, shop and even celebrate important milestones like graduations, anniversaries and even birthdays. For me, as I recently celebrated my 50th birthday, different is how I have labeled this moment in my life.
“Different” certainly applied to my birthday this month. With the quarantine still underway, all plans of a big 50th birthday celebration surrounded by friends and family had been “postponed”. No need for a snarky “Over the Hill” cake, lavish black decorations, witty old age invitations or large amounts of food. This year, social distancing and the coronavirus would limit how many I could invite and the magnitude of celebration I could have…at least that is what I thought.
As my birthday approached, I felt a sense anxiety, frustration and even a selfish disappointment. I kept reminding myself daily that the impact of the virus on my life had been minimal. Sure, the quarantine had led to a “different” place to work from, fewer dinners out, less time with friends and family, no haircuts and schooling from home…you know, first world problems. But we hadn’t lost anyone or known anyone that had. We were all safe and healthy. We had a home, food on the table and jobs. We were lucky and blessed. In fact, for us this was just a minor inconvenience. But even with that backdrop, the isolation, the media and 8+ weeks (and counting) in quarantine slowly seeped into my unconscious, poisoning my mindset and having me question my past, present and future.
“Would the financial markets and economy recover? Will I still have a job?”
“Would my kids fall behind in school? How would this experience impact them and who they become? “
“Worse, is it just a matter of time before my family, friends and I get the virus? Will they have a vaccine in time?”
Somehow this “intruder” began to limit my view on life and my dreams, clouding the lens I saw my blessings through. Even things as simple and insignificant as a milestone birthday would be impacted and truth be told, I had been planning (in my mind) a big party for years to celebrate 50. A way to commemorate this moment with the ones I care about. But the virus changed all that and selfishly I was disappointed. Wait, no I was mad.
“What now I thought? What do I want to do for my birthday? More importantly, with the quarantine what could I actually do?”
The options (in my mind) were limited but as the day got closer, it became clear. I chuckled when my wife asked “So have you decided?”
“Yes”, I said.
“Where?” she asked
“Where it all started…my hometown.” I replied.
So the plan was set.
My birthday morning started early as usual. First, a text from my high school best friend and best man at 5:15am. If anyone knew the first 50 years with me, he certainly did, so it was fitting he was the first to wish me a happy birthday. (My nephew was actually first but that’s because he had the date wrong and was 3 days early…lol)
Then on to my morning walk with a cup of coffee to the nearby lake, watching the sunrise and thinking…immersed in the moment and the milestone.
Then back to the house to pack lawn chairs and masks, to head for Milford, a small upstate NY town where a house that a Miranda Lambert song would say “built me.”
The first stop was seeing my dad, checking out his lawn and talk of when he would be putting in the garden…maintaining 6 feet of separation of course. Then to mom’s house where we would bring Brook’s BBQ Chicken for lunch like we had done for years.
Then a short hike in the woods to my favorite spots near her house with the kids and Amy, followed by relaxing in my favorite chair to gaze at the field across from her house.
Laughter, peace, healing, perspective and relief filled my mind. Exactly what I needed. Oh, an mom’s famous 7 layer cake…yes, there really are 7 layers!
As we departed, elbow bumps temporarily replaced kisses and hugs. Then a quick stop by my high school where 33 kids and I graduated in 1988 and a sign that coincidentally said “We Miss You”. Then to the cemetery to see the grandparents I lost 20+ years ago but whose influence still shape the man I am today .
Lastly, we decided to drive home via Cooperstown and a quick stop at Otsego lake and a drive by my favorite log cabin. The day was complete. I was exhausted. As my wife drove home, I drifted off to sleep in the back of the car. (This may seem like an insignificant point but those that know me, know that I always drive and rarely sit in the back. ) I guess my co-worker that recently turned 50 in February was right…naps are part of being 50!
Upon awakening minutes from home, I thought that even though this birthday was much “different” then I had originally imagined, the day had been perfect. Little did I know there was more to come…not from visiting the past like I had just done in Milford, but from the “present” that was being “unwrapped” in front of me.
Pulling into the driveway, I quickly noticed it had been beautifully decorated with hand written chalk messages wishing me a happy birthday…joking “It’s All Down Hill From Here” on my sloped driveway. Well played by my niece! Then into a house full of black and yellow, 50 themed(or Steelers) balloons and decorations, exactly as I had originally imagined in my mind. Cards and gifts were piled on the table. All that was missing were the guests….
After taking some pictures, the house was quiet.
Amy and the kids said “sit down on the couch, we have a surprise for you”. She then proceeded to played a 25 minute video of our lives together over the last few decades. Growing up in Milford. Dating. Marriage. Having kids. Our first home. Attending Steelers games. Vacations. The epilepsy foundation. Loved ones we lost. The ups and downs of life in it’s full raw and amazing glory. No filters. Just 50 years of memories. As I sat immersed in the video of memories, I felt blessed. Emotional. Grounded in what matters.
This was suddenly interrupted by the sound of vehicles outside…a birthday drive by had begun. Waves of family and close friends began showing up with horns, homemade Happy Birthday signs, balloons and more gifts in support of this “milestone”, maintaining social distance but feeling closer then ever. We laughed. Joked. Reminisced. Relaxed. It was incredible.
Even my favorite 4 legged friend, the “Fozz” stopped by in his yellow Corvette with some birthday wisdom…play the video, its hysterical.
As people left, I told my wife and kids “that was awesome, thank you.” We then went into the house to prepare dinner, but was told there was “one more surprise” and that I should sit again on the couch. For another next 25 minutes, I watched countless video messages from friends, family and co-workers from as far as India and Europe as well as here in the States. Some people I “see” everyday. Others, like my “favorite” cousin I hadn’t seen or talked to in years. Loving Birthday wishes, shared special memories, life advice, gratitude, and of course many jokes about the joys of aging from co-workers and family.
This birthday had certainly been “different”. The day started out one way and ended completely another. Although I cannot wait to have my official party with hugs and kisses (yes, we are still having it at some point), this “different” birthday will always be remembered. It has reminded me that meaning we give, and actions we take in response to the circumstances in our lives, is a choice. “Different” doesn’t have to paralyze, frustrate or be an obstacle to a new experience. Different can be good…even great if we are open to the possibilities and willing to let go of old perceptions on what “normal” is. Even for something as simple as a 50th birthday party.
I went to bed that night feeling loved. Feeling close to family, friends and co-workers. Gratitude for my life and my many blessings had become clear again, and although nothing had changed in the world with the status of the quarantine, I had changed. My mindset about life, the real birthday “present” and what a celebration “could look like” was now different. A new “normal” had begun. As I drifted off to sleep, these thoughts filled my mind… “What a day…what a beautiful and “different” day. #Blessed.
A special and deep gratitude to God for my life, family, friends and endless blessings. To my wife Amy, daughter Megan and son Matthew who orchestrated this amazing celebration and are and will always be my everything. To my mom who raised me, loved me and gave me my work ethic, passion for cooking and love for writing. To my dad who sparked my interest in growing a garden, taking pride in my lawn and enjoying the outdoors. To my sister who rode “shotgun” with me throughout the ups and downs of childhood. Lastly, to the countless others in my life that made my 50th birthday the best and most “different” birthday ever. #LiveDifferent
Just a quick note to check in and pass along my thoughts and prayers that you and your family are safe and healthy during this challenging time in our lives and the world
I encourage you to stay “present” with your family.
To be aware of the meaning your are giving to this experience
To embrace the opportunity set before you to grow and learn
And to make a conscious choice as to who you will become as a result of this.
Birthdays are mile markers in our lives. Matthew’s recent 13th birthday proved to be no less significant and served as a reminder that part of celebrating the first things in life is appreciating the “lasts”.
We have a tradition of taking the kids out for a birthday dinner. This usually involves them choosing the restaurant and us secretly arranging some form of public spectacle of cake, candles and an entire restaurant of people singing “Happy Birthday” to them. Matthew’s upcoming 13th birthday and transition to becoming a teenager would be no different.
This year he chose the Hibachi Grill near our house. The sights, sounds, smell and entertainment always captures his attention. In fact, we all enjoy the experience especially watching the kids attempt to catch flying zucchini in their mouths while the adults have zake shot at them from 6 feet away!
As we finished dinner, the waitress surprised Matthew with a special dessert and a big firework like candle. As the restaurant sang “Happy Birthday”, I watched his expression. His joy, his excitement, his innocence and his free spirit. Even the “birthday crown” didn’t make him self conscious. He simply smiled, laughed and savored the moment …same as I did.
As we finished dinner, I said, “Hey Matt, let’s go get your last cookie.”
“What?”, he asked.
“You know, at Hannaford (grocery store in Northeast). Tomorrow you will be 13 so this is your last chance,” I said in a persuasive tone.
He smiled and reluctantly agreed. Off we went.
First some background…
When the kids were young and my daughter was still in high school, we would make grocery shopping at Hannaford a family affair. Armed with our paper “list”, now a digital app, we would divide and conquer. As the kids have grown, their efficiency and accuracy in getting the items assigned to them as well as the speed at which they do it, has consistently improved over the years. But one “ritual” always slowed down the process. A ritual I have recently come to appreciate even more and one I will never forget now that Matthew has turned 13.
free cookie for Kids 12 and under
You see, as soon as we would enter the store, Matthew would make a b-line for the bakery counter. On top of the glass counter sat a see through container filled with sugar cookies. Now, these were not your ordinary sugar cookies. These were “FREE and reserved for kids 12 and under only” as the posted sign asserted.
Initially, the counter was too high and he would ask “Dad, can I have a cookie?” I always replied the same way. “Of course” and I would hand him one.
Eventually, he was able to reach the container and would take a cookie by himself. Each time I would read the inscription aloud:
“Free cookies for kids 12 and under”, and would joke with him that soon, he won’t be able to have those cookies.
He would laugh and say “That’s ok. I can have them now! To bad you can’t have any!”, taunting me with the cookie.
Back to the story…
As we exited the car and walked towards the Hannfords, I was almost in slow motion. The feel and smell of the brisk winter night (Matthew was born in January), the sound of the wind blowing gently through the trees and the sight of his silhouette as he walked slightly ahead, no longer a child but not quite a man.
As we entered the store, he paused and cautiously looked around.
“I hope no one sees me doing this”, he mumbled.
Then he went straight towards the bakery counter as he had done hundreds of times before. Standing almost 5’9” inches tall he easily reached into the container and I re-read the sign aloud one last time:
“Free cookies for kids 12 and under”, I said with a sentimental tone.
The container of cookies was almost empty. In fact, only 1 cookie remained…symbolic of the end of this stage of life with his “last cookie” waiting for him.
As he reached in, memories of the last 13 years flashed through my mind. From sitting in a stroller and watching me retrieve the cookie for him to him being able to reach the counter and grab a cookie himself…and before I could say anything, he reached into the container and was about to eat the cookie.
“Matt, WAIT, hold on!”, I said. “I want a picture.”
His body expression said it all.
Really? Of what? Me eating a cookie?”, he said sarcastically with a smirk.
“Not just a cookie. Your LAST FREE cookie.” Tomorrow you will be 13…no more FREE cookies.” I said.
“OK. Hurry, before someone sees me doing this”, he grumbled.
<Click. Click. Click.>
3 pictures. I got it. Done.
He quickly gobbled down the cookie and said with a smile on his face, “Let’s Go!” and briskly walked towards the door.
That was it. The moment and “last” cookie was over.
Our lives are filled with many moments. Those that come “first” have a tendency to be celebrated, photographed and remembered like our first car, our first love, our first job, our child’s first step and even your first birthday as a teenager. These mark the beginning of the next phase of life, full of excitement for the future and what lies ahead but can easily overshadow the amazing journey that has already unfolded. Where we have been. What we have completed. Where we are today. Who we are today. Right now. This moment. Sometime “last” can be even better then first…
What “last’s” are unfolding right now that you maybe overlooking? Sometimes it is as simple as a last “FREE” cookie, a last birthday crown or a last family shopping trip that can remind us of the importance of being present and savoring our “lasts”. #CelebrateLasts
With the holidays upon us and the year coming to an end, a much overdo trip to see my mom before Christmas reminded me to be mindful of the things that drive me in life…
As an adult, I don’t get back to my childhood hometown during the Christmas season much anymore. Thankfully, this year the scheduling worked out, so my son Matthew and I decided to drive down and surprise my mom, spending a night with her in the house I grew up in.
That night at bedtime, we headed down the hallway to the bedroom I had slept in as a child. Memories flooded my mind of the years spent there and the time that had passed since I was still a “believer” during this time of year. We changed, brushed our teeth, climbed into bed and began chatting about growing up in this room and what life was like “back then”. We had never done that before, so I seized the moment to share a part of me he would have otherwise never known.
As we both began to tire, he asked me “what time are you getting up tomorrow?”
“Normal time”, I said.
“5am on a Saturday…why?!?” he exclaimed.
I paused. Thought for a second and said…”I like being up early, it gives me a chance to think and I love being here.”
He shrugged, smiled like I was crazy and said “goodnight” as he rolled over.
As I laid there, I listened to the sounds of the house and stared at the ceiling as I had done thousands of times as a child. Where had the time gone? How did I get here?Was I really almost 50 with 2 kids, a wife and a “ceiling” of my own? Thoughts of the past, present and future gently filled my mind as I drifted off to sleep.
The morning came quick. In fact, the alarm didn’t even get a chance to go off. I was already awake…4:45am. My mind seemed to be tugging at my body like a child with a parent on Christmas Day morning. An excitement seemed to be “brewing” inside me.
I got up, got dressed, and wandered down the hallway…just like I had done so many years before. The house was still quiet. I was the only one up. Walking down the hallway again continued the avalanche of childhood Christmas memories. The house. The decorations. The presents. The family members no longer with us. Even the silence. It seemed like yesterday as the memories pulled me back to a simpler time, a time where my future was ahead of me and my dreams were just beginning to take shape.
As much as nostalgia had gotten me up, it was the “thought” of coffee that further directed my steps. So into the kitchen I went, straight for the coffee machine. Eight scoops, twelve cups of water and 10 minutes later, the house was full of the aroma of coffee (old school, no Keurig here!). I poured a big cup, went into the living room and sat in my favorite spot as a child.
“Ahhhh…nothing like a real cup of coffee at moms,” I thought.
As I inhaled the aroma and sipped the coffee, I looked out the big bow window into the dark countryside. My thoughts began to wander to this past year. The ups and downs. The struggles and victories. The growth of my children, the obstacles we had overcome as a family and the strength of my marriage. God had certainly been faithful. Now with perspective looking back, it was clear it had been an amazing year, and to Matthew’s question that previous evening regarding getting up early, “this was why I was up at 5am”: To think. To reflect. To be grateful. And to “brew” my plans for the upcoming year.
Suddenly, a faint sound caught my attention. It was my mom, now 72, shuffling down the hallway.
“Good morning,” she said in a whisper.
“Morning mom,“ I answered. “Why are you up so early?” I asked.
“Coffee. I smelled coffee and I wanted to spend time with you,” she said softly.
“Sit, I’ll grab you a cup,” I said.
As the sun slowly started to rise on that 6 degree winter morning, we reminisced and talked about the past, the present and our dreams for the future. We hadn’t done that in years. A special moment I would forever be grateful for…who knows how many more Christmases we would have together.
Soon, the house was filled with the sounds and laughter of others. I was glad I had gotten up “early as usual”, not only to reflect on my life but to spend alone time with my mom. She had unknowingly given me a new perspective when I asked her “why are you up so early?” Her response of “coffee and to spend time with you” got me thinking about my intentions each day, the goals I have set and what drives me to “get out of bed”. Coffee now became my metaphor for having a clear purpose in life that directs my steps and gets me up each day. I thanked her for her inadvertent wisdom and inspiration for this year end blog post, but most of all for her love.
As you approach the new year and your future, what dreams or fears are driving you? What inspires you to get out of bed each day? What’s the purpose that is “brewing” inside you like childhood excitement on Christmas morning?
