Long-Distance Grandma

A few years ago, I remember sitting on a plane next to a teenage girl who was going to visit her Grandma in the States. She lived in Europe where her mother was born, but over the years she would visit her father's family who lived in the States. I was curious as to how often she saw her Grandma and how close she was to her. I was encouraged to hear her share how much she loved her Grandma and that she felt very close to her even though she only saw her once a year. 

Our family is scattered from the Midwest to California to New Zealand. I get to see some of them more than others, but I do hope my growing grands can say the same about this Grandma when they are in their teens. I recently made a visit to my Kiwi grands, with an extended stop-over in CA along the way–making the above a reality. 

A 3-day stopover in Pasadena before heading to NZ.
What a joy to spend time with Josh, Kari, Stella, Leo, and Julie.
A fun afternoon at Santa Monica Beach. 

Botanical Gardens in Christchurch with Jamie, Evee, and Iris.

Keeping entertained with G'ma's phone camera in the back seat of the car on a day-trip to Hanmer Springs. 

Walking Evee to and from school, dropping Iris off at Kindy, playground fun,
Saturday mornings at the market, afternoon teas, shopping,
 doing life together. . . taking in all I can in my once a year visit. 

And last, but not least, Papa crashed the All Girls Party, but we didn't mind at all! 

Love being Grandma to Stella and Leo, GrGr to Miles, and Grammy to Evee and Iris!

Five Old Men - A Yosemite Story

Nobody really noticed them. Five old men making their way into the Curry Village Lodge for breakfast. It was the day after our Half Dome hike. Dennis and I were leisurely enjoying our coffee and a pastry. I couldn’t help watching as the men headed to a table just two down from us. One man helped another with his walker as he seated himself at the table. I watched and wondered as they chatted drinking their coffee.

You don’t see many older folk in Yosemite–lots of 20-somethings (so many passed us on the hike up to Half Dome), young families, nature and adventure seekers, but not many elderly.

The five guys fascinated me. Were they old friends? What brought them to Yosemite on this Memorial Day week? As I shared my fascination with Dennis, he finally said, Honey, if anyone could go ask them, you could. My curiosity got the best of me, and I strolled into their conversation.

The younger-looking one of the bunch paused in the conversation, looked up at me, and asked, What can we do for you?

Well, I’ve been watching you and can’t help but wonder what brings you to Yosemite. Are you friends?

They nodded in unison.

Oh, yes, the younger-looking one affirmed. We’ve been coming to Yosemite for years. We’re from the Bay Area and we come up annually around this time of year. I joined these guys back in 1973. Gesturing towards the man at the end of the table, the one with the walker, He’s been coming for 70 years.

Then, he looked across the table at the one with the gentleman’s cap. You’ve been making the reservations. How long has it been since we’ve been coming up on Memorial Day?

Oh, about 20 years, he figured. 

Directing my attention to the one who had been coming for 70 years, May I ask how old you are?

Seventy-eight.

So, you’ve been coming since you were a young boy! He nodded with a grin.

I felt at ease with these five. I think they felt at ease with my questions. I had found a treasure in the valley that was just as meaningful as standing on the top of Half Dome.

So, you've been coming for 20 years? I asked the man who made the reservations.

Well, no, he said. That's when we started coming on Memorial Day. 

Oh, sooo when did you start coming up here together?

I could tell his mind was turning back the hands of time. Some time in the 60’s, I can’t remember exactly.

My mind was calculating. That was almost 50 years ago. How old are these guys? I wondered. Do you mind if I ask how old you all are? 

My presumption was right as the younger-looking one claimed, Well, I’m the kid in the bunch. I'm 72.

He pointed directly across the table. Today’s his birthday.

Oh, wow, how old are you today? I asked.

Seventy-five, he said with a big smile on his face. 

I wished him a happy birthday and then found out the two guys on either side of him were 75 as well.  

Listening to these guys reminisce, thinking about the history they had together, almost moved me to tears.

So, have any of you hiked Half Dome?

Two nodded.

The one with the gent’s hat thought for a second when I asked how old he was when he hiked to the top.

Forty-five, maybe fifty.

Larry, with curly gray hair was the other one. He figured it had been 47 years ago, at the age of 28.

I proudly let them know that Dennis and I had hiked it the day before. The kid in the bunch was brave enough to ask me my age. As soon as I told them, they were all over it. Wow, congratulations! Good for you! That was followed by questions that only those that make it to the top would know to ask.

Are the cables still made of steel?

Yes, I answered.

Did you wear gloves?

You better believe I did. Couldn’t have done it without them.

Larry wanted to know if they still put up railroad ties to give a resting place on the ascent. 

Well, they’re not railroad ties anymore, I said wishing they had been railroad ties. Two-by-fours every 10 feet or so. Couldn’t have made the ascent without them either!

We talked about their plans for the day, if there was snow up in the High Sierras, and someone pointed out that I needed to hear about Larry's backpacking adventure on the John Muir trail when he was in his 20's. 

My curiosity needed to finish up so Dennis and I could get on with our day.

Would you mind if I take a picture of you? I asked. 

They gathered around the oldest, who promptly took off his baseball cap for the picture.

I shared of my delight to meet them, how encouraged I was to see the longevity of shared friendship and camaraderie, and the intentionality of connecting even in the later years of life. I had more than noticed them. Though it was brief, I heard their stories, felt their history, and gave honor and value to five old men who probably know Yosemite like the back of their hand.

I thanked them for their time, then I went back to finish my coffee with Dennis. Then the tears came. A Hungarian friend once told me that even if you meet people for only a moment, like having a conversation with someone on the train or on a flight, then you have enriched their life and they have enriched yours. I found those enriching moments in Yosemite with five old men. 

Fill Me For This Day

I was 19 years of age. I had finished a year of training as a Licensed Practical Nurse and was six months into a night-shift job at a county nursing home. Can't say it was the best of jobs, but it wasn't a bad first job as an LPN. Night shift called for hourly checks that included bed pans, administering medication, turning patients to avoid bed sores, addressing nightly needs, and the early morning ritual of getting patients set up for breakfast. 

Though I had graduated from LPN training, there were still State Board exams to take - a necessary requirement to receive license to practice as a nurse. Obviously the goal was to pass the first time, but if not, there was a second and third chance. Three strikes and you're out, which meant the year of training was for naught.

If you know my story, you have heard me share or read about my grade school experiences where my teachers gave me the labels of inadequate and incapable. You can imagine that day as I drove up to Harrisburg, PA for my exam; I was nervous. Would I pass? I remember the day I received the exam results in the mail. I opened the envelope with fear and trepidation. "Did Not Pass" were the words that brought immediate tears to my eyes. The labels mocked me again. Needless to say, I was humiliated (as I so often felt in the classroom). Informing the RN who managed our floor of my results was intimidating. I'm sure she was kind and gracious when she told me that I could no longer administer medication until they had knowledge that I had passed in the future.

It was a difficult time in my life. I went into isolation, not wanting to tell my friends the outcome. I was embarrassed. I didn't want to be around people. I felt like everyone was looking at me according to the labels placed on me. It was like "dumb" and "stupid" were written across my forehead.

But, it was also during this time that I found that people loved me. Period. My relationship with my friends didn't change because I hadn't passed an exam. If anything, they surrounded me with love, encouragement, and support. They built me up and encouraged me to go at it again. They believed in me.

In my despair I approached our pastor in my home church at that time. Rev. Strickler listened to me as I relayed words of worry, defeat, and fear. I have never forgotten what he told me that evening as we sat across from each other in a church pew. He told me that worry was not what God intended for me. That to worry is to not trust God. Worry produces panic and fear and anxiety, the opposite of God's peace. He encouraged me to memorize Philippians 4:6-7, which I did in the weeks ahead, and have never forgotten the words. 

Don't worry about anything. Instead, prayer about everything. Tell God your needs, and don't forget to thank him for his answers. If you do this, you will experience God's peace, which is far more wonderful than the human mind can understand. His peace will keep your thoughts and your heart quiet and at rest as you trust in Christ Jesus. 

Believe me, there have been many times in my life since then when these verses run though my head to overcome worry and anxiety.

The other suggestion my pastor shared was to pray this prayer every morning: Jesus, fill me with Your Spirit for this day. When Jesus fills me, lives in me, worry has to dissipate. The two can't dwell together. Worry evaporates in his peace. Fear vanishes in his presence. Panic is swallowed up by his belief in me.

Weeks later I took the exam for a second time. I anxiously awaited the day the results would come in the mail. When the envelope was in the mailbox, I went straight to my room to open it. My heart was pounding with an anxious curiosity. I saw the words PASSED! and cried, this time, for joy. I immediately called my best friend at the time.

I can't believe it! I passed! She celebrated with me over the phone. I knew you could do it!

Though it was a difficult time in my life, I will not forget the importance of community and the need we all have for encouragement and affirmation. I will never forget the words of my pastor who encouraged me to lean into the Lord for his peace, quietness, and strength. And, even today, it's been a good reminder to ask Jesus to fill me with his Spirit every day.