Goodnight Kiss

A year has been added to my age recently. I could comment about my feelings on that whole dealio, but why? Probably just best to accept that the number is just a number. Hmmm. I’m going to keep that in mind when I see the number on the doctor’s office scales later this month.

My family gathered here at our hacienda and loved on me with their presence, hugs, food, cards, games, gifts, laughs, fun stories. It was a great day. I was playing Sirius music through our TV speaker and displaying old family pictures through the Roku as I do often, VERY often.

While playing games, my oldest daughter wanted to change to some different music. You know, those silly kids don’t always enjoy their folks’ music. I was fine with that, Sirius Country Yacht channel had been playing for hours.

As we went back to playing cards the music she had selected made me catch my breath. The piano sounded like me playing. The voices sounded like my young daughters. And my husband and me.

The oldest daughter had been cleaning out boxes of stuff in their home and came across a cassette tape from her youth. “Noises from the Coffman Parlor”. Long ago in an earlier chapter of life, we made the tape while doing our favorite thing of singing together. She doesn’t have a cassette player anymore. Do you? Yeah, likely not. But she found someone who was able to convert the contents of the cassette into a CD.

As we listened the girls reminisced about our youngest always being forced to sing the soprano high notes because no one else could. “We all had alto voices, why did I have to sing the high parts,” she lamented. And the solo that girl #1 sang for her high school graduation was on there. Along with songs where the three of us sang harmony. Hubby sang from time to time. He was notorious for singing wrong lyrics. 😜 Don’t get me wrong, though. He LOVED singing with his 3 girls.

But then our focus went back to playing games. We are gamers. There was fun to be had with the kids and grandkids and us old folks. The game was Flip 7 Extreme, and our oldest son-in-love was pretty much dominating most of the games.

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The next evening my husband asked me if I’d like to listen to the music again, just the two of us. We wanted to listen more closely. So we did.

And right there in our living room I was transported back to 108 E Vine. I looked over and saw that his eyes were closed. A tear or two on his cheeks. Mine, too. I knew “where” he was, too. Our minds were seeing two little girls. Our hearts were recalling the younger days of our family life. So long ago. So very long ago. Good times, not so good times. Life.

On one of the first songs played I heard my voice singing these words and I could still remember the words to sing along:

“I count it as a privilege, I count it cause for praise, to kiss my children goodnight at the end of every day. For I know too soon they’re up and gone and walking out the door, and I’ll never have a child to kiss goodnight anymore”.

The song is Goodnight Kiss by Steve & Annie Chapman. From the 1970’s.

We talked about how difficult it was to hear this music without choking up and shedding a flood of tears. But we listened to every song.

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It is so easy, way too easy in fact, for me to be caught up in thinking about all the things I did wrong as a young mom. Wow there was a lot of “wrong” to think about. Do all moms deal with this same mindset?

But sitting there listening and remembering through the tears was like a gentle hug from God.

It’s very hard for me to believe but maybe….. I was all He intended me to be as a mom to my girls.

Maybe you were/are, too. God takes our pitiful, weak, often failed efforts and He makes them enough.

HE is enough, we’re sure not. And that’s the good news. He is a good good Father.

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Thank you dear daughters for the precious beautiful day. Thank you God for my family. ❤️

Stroll or scroll?

Last evening around 9p I went for a walk. It had been a routine hot summer day in Kansas but my legs told me, “get up, woman, and take a walk”. It’s just so easy to fall into a habit of sitting with cellphone in hand, scrolling through news clips and social media, fogging the old brain with far less than uplifting content.

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Significance

1963. If you were alive and above the age of 4 or so in 1963 you undoubtedly recall the day in November.

In February of last year we visited the 6th Floor Museum in Dallas. Dallas is huge, 7 million people live in the metro area. There are many buildings with six floors. But only one building houses the location where a gunman shot and killed President John Kennedy from a window on the sixth floor.

While walking through the museum and listening to the audio headphones tell the story I was taken back to that day in November. My 3rd grade classroom in Minneapolis Grade School. We listened to the news over the loudspeaker while our teacher, Mrs. Warren, wept. The only sound was the voice on the speaker and the weeping of our teacher. While a room full of eight year olds tried to process what was happening.

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Young. And Old. And Future.

Sixty three years ago on this day, my 15 year old sister loaded up my pregnant mom and my two other sisters in our old car and drove to the hospital 25 miles from home.  My sister’s skills included driving a tractor and she could drive a car, too.    Dad was working, driving a road maintainer for the county. Probably far out in the country on a dirt road and there weren’t cell phones in that day.  He was probably clueless that the whole hospital thing was happening.  I don’t think I was quite due to be born yet. The first and last time I was early for anything.  Continue reading “Young. And Old. And Future.”