Post Thanksgiving

In the last four years, we have lost three parents between us. What no one tells you, is that with the proverbial "changing of the guard", there also comes changing traditions that are challenging.

Anyone who has lost a parent or other loved one will tell you, holidays are among the most difficult times to navigate. They are often steeped in traditions, created by the specific group of individuals who gather together to celebrate said holiday. For many, holidays are defined by traditions. When they change, it's as if the world has been somehow turned upside down.

Thanksgiving was a huge event on the Mandish side and, Christmas on the Matthis side. Both have been altered forever by the loss of two fathers and one mother. Things, they are a changin'.

Last year was the first year our daughter, Amanda, took on Thanksgiving in she and her hubby's home. In attempt to avoid having to dash from house to house, they brought both sets of parents to their home. I helped her with the turkey and many others brought traditional fare to add to the feast. The tables were beautifully set and the mood was festive. But-for me, it was very hard. It wasn't the same.

Instead of knowing every face around the table, I was surrounded by many with names I hadn't yet mastered. Instead of knowing all the stories, the children, the struggles they'd been through, they were, effectively strangers. There was none of the spirited conversation the Mandish clan is known for, no talking over each other, no---familiarity. It just felt wrong.

I have shared this experience with other family members on both sides and we all agree, we HATE it. I hate that the Matthis family doesn't go to Mom and Dad's on Christmas Eve. I hate that we don't all spend the night, wake up complaining the it was too hot, or too cold or that someone had snored too loudly. I hate that we don't eat my Dad's famous French Toast for breakfast. I even hate that we don't have the two hour drive home on Christmas morning, listening to Christmas music and looking forward to the next celebration. I also know that to go back is not an option. There is only one direction to travel and that is forward. I get it.

Time passes and some traditions must go by the wayside, out of necessity. We are now the older generation and we have to make adjustments that are often painful. It is a process that is wrought with melancholy moments. So, we incorporate what we can into the new, and let go of what we must from the old. We forge a new path that will be equally precious with the passing of time, but, may be a little rocky in this present day.

I was glad to tell our daughter that Thanksgiving this year was so much better for us than last. Faces were more familiar, expectations were adjusted, conversation was rich, laughter rang out and we truly enjoyed the new friendships we are forging. It wasn't the same as years gone by, but, it was good. By the time we left, our stomaches and our hearts were full. Same is not the gold standard; changing with the seasons of life, may well be.

I truly appreciate the ability to treasure so many sweet memories, but also for the blessed opportunity to choose to live in the moment. It is a gift to be thankful for. I am.

Every breath we take...

I rolled over in bed this morning, put on my glasses and picked up my phone, ready to scroll through the early posters on Facebook. The first post I read was about a young man on our church staff. When I say young, I mean young. Married to his bride less than a decade and father of two precious little girls.

I didn't know Ash personally. But, I do remember him sharing one evening during a service about how many years earlier, he had been contemplating ending his own life. Instead he walked through the doors of a place called Hope, and met the Savior. His life was forever changed. He became a bright light in a dark world.

He had been sick, but was still working. Still leading small groups. Still going on mission trips. Still loving his family. He was in church Friday night. But somehow between Friday night services and Monday morning, his body gave out. He left this life and entered the next.

We, (and when I say we, I mean, ME) so easily complain about meaningless irritations. We take for granted that we'll live to see another day. We fail to be grateful for so many blessings and instead complain about insignificant, trivial irritations. Then, in the blink of an eye, someone in our midst is taken from us. Gone forever from this world. Gone too soon in our estimations.

Every breath we take. We ought to be thankful. RIP Ash.

'Tis the season to be grateful...

Thanksgiving is just a week away. Early this month, I posted my annual challenge to my Facebook peeps, suggesting that each take a moment everyday this month, to post what they are most thankful for. I love seeing the challenge spread from person to person, knowing that being grateful is to be happy. I love to see blessings remembered and recounted.

I long to be known for a heart full of gratitude, regardless of the ups and downs of everyday life. And, I find, that focusing on it reminds me that there is much to be thankful for. Many days, I post more than once, and I often find myself thinking, what will I post next. I am oft reminded that acknowledging my blessing is foundational to believing and living as blessed.

I once gave a gratitude journal to someone I love, who often suffers from depression and self-focus. I shared with them that the practice of simply writing down those things I appreciated, caused me to rejoice in that which I had vs bemoaning what I lacked. I encouraged them to take on the challenge to see if it would have the same effect on them. Sadly, after less than two weeks of daily notations, they confessed that they intended to stop. Why? This is hard for me to imagine and harder still to believe, but, they stopped because they couldn't think of anything more to write.

My heart broke a little that day, knowing that most likely they were doomed to a life of never having enough, never recognizing that their life was truly charmed; not without sorrow or trial or pain, but, still-blessed. When you don't recognize the gifts you've been given, you are dooming yourself to discontent. That's a life I will not accept.

Be thankful. In all things. In every circumstance. It has made all the difference for me. It can for you, too.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...

I woke up this morning to falling rain and hot coffee. We turned on the heat for the first time this fall and I returned to bed, with bible, lap top and journal in hand. I am preparing for a talk I will give in December at Mission Hills Church to the wonderful women who worship there.

Four hours later, I have a rough framework for what I'll be saying and an excitement about sharing what is good and true and right about Christmas...that Jesus is the gift that keeps on giving and that there is a way to enjoy the season that so many have come to dread. It's all about living with intention.

My lovely sister-in-love, Christine, recently expressed surprise at my mid-October attmept to schedule our annual Christmas baking date. My response was that I have learned to plan in advance in order to make sure that those things that are genuinely important to me don't get crowded out by things that are "urgent" but not necessarily important or valuable.

Like it or not, (and I really like it!) Christmas is coming. News flash: It happens every year at the same time. So, take a few minutes and figure out what's important to you this year and what's not. And plan accordingly.

Big Sky

There's a reason they call it Big Sky Country

They say you can't go home again. I hadn't been back to Montana in several years. So, when the occasion of my Aunt Wilma and Uncle Ray's 65th Anniversary celebration came up, I decided it was time. Time to return to my birthplace,to the place where my first memories were formed, to the house my mother was born and to the family still there. My first home. MONTANA.

I convinced both my mom and my sister, Debi, to join me and we set off on our summer adventure. What an adventure it was. There were so many wonderful moments contained in a few short days, too many to recount them all here, but, so worth the remembering and giving thanks for...

Time with my mom and my sister in the place where our first memories as a family were formed...here we are on the steps of the Sacajawea Hotel in Three Forks, the first town we lived in as a family. We stopped to visit with Cotton and Madeline Todd. I remember sleeping over at their house with their daughter Donna when I was a very small girl. For most of my life, I thought I had imagined that they'd had a horse sleeping behind the sofa. Turns out it was for reals. Gotta love 'em. Good people, life friends.

Staying in the warm and beautiful home of my cousin Linda and her husband Mike. They were so gracious and hospitable! Reconnecting with her was such a blessing and such fun!

Visiting with many cousins, aunts, uncles and life long friends we seldom get to see.

Hanging out at the Garden Cafe in Manhattan, and visiting my favorite little vintage shop on Main Street.

Sitting on Wilma and Ray's porch, eating steak from the Oasis and laughing with loved ones who came from near and far.

Hearing the distant train whistle blow and running across the road with my sister to feel the whoosh of the train passing by as we stood along the tracks.

Attending the anniversary celebration in the basement of their church and realizing the minute I got there, that this was the place where I had attended Vacation Bible School as a child. Vivid memories of this room washed all over me!

Sitting up late with my cousin, sister and mom, having a glass of wine, (okay, maybe two) and hearing stories out of my mother's mouth that left me laughing so hard I was gasping for breath!

The sky. Oh, the sky. It's hard to explain, but, it's really different there. Expansive. Vast. Majestic. Expressive. Enormous. Unobstructed. God's creation shouting!

It was only five days, but, it was a little slice of heaven, and--you know what's next--I'm grateful.

"Oh Mickey, you're so fine..."

Today is my beloved's birthday. Number 69. EGAD. Although, as he was quick to remind me, today, as is my custom, I will begin referring to him as "almost 70". (Just a little birthday gift from me to you, Dear).

It's hard to believe that he is on the cusp of becoming a septugenarian. He, who I met when I was but a teen, when he was a twenty-something and quite a handsome specimen. (I noticed. He didn't). It wasn't until many years later, when I was the twenty-something and he was a tad over 30, that our lives intersected again and we progressed to love, marriage and the road of a life shared. That was over thirty years ago. What a ride it has been.

We've travelled a "long and winding road" together, with no shortage of perilous turns, falling rocks, deer crossings and steep falls. Those very trials were a blessing in my life, driving me to my knees, causing me to rely on the only One who knew what I needed, and who could carry us through. For that, I am eternally grateful. But, we are here, today, having weathered the storms, and celebrating the gift of Michael Simon in my life.

So, today's a day to celebrate you, my love. But since it's all about me, let's talk about what you mean to me and why...

Because of you, husband, I am a wife, a mother and a grandmother. Further, I became a part of an amazing "bonus" family, who have become as dear to me as my family of origin. Because you believed in me, I have pursued things I might never have done on my own...I learned to live within my means and as a result, we've been blessed with financial security, or, as Francis Chan whould say, we are "filthy rich"! You've made me angrier than anyone I know, and yet, you've made me laugh harder, too. You are the one I fall asleep with every night and wake up to every morning. The one who washes the dishes after I cooked, the one who empties the trash (it's your only job, after all) and mows the lawns and fixes everything that can ever go wrong in our aging home.

You sit beside me at church every Friday night, welcome the many people I invite into our home and who sit around our table... you sacrifice your privacy in order to accomodate my love of fellowship. You are generous with your daughters, sharing your time, wisdom and resources to let them know how much you love. You give lavishly, with an open hand to those in need, whether to an unknown family in Viet Nam, or a young woman without a strong family to support her. You've opened your heart and our home to make it a place of refuge and joy for so many.

We have built a home, a family and a legacy. We have a past and a future. But--today we have the present. I'm so thankful for that, and for you. Happy Birthday, Mr. M. "Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be."