Her Father's Homestead

Today’s post is a rerun, first posted some time ago in honor of my paternal grandmother.  On top of that, it’s a day late   From what I remember of her, she would be happy to have the greetings and tardiness would be overlooked with that smile I remember so well.  

Hattie – a name you don’t hear too much anymore, in this case short for Henrietta, my Grandma Buelow who, if she was still with us, would have been 122 years old yesterday.  She passed away at age 85 and played an important role here at Her Father’s Homestead. She came as a young bride in 1907 when she married my grandfather, Henry Buelow. That’s right Henrietta Jantz married Henry Buelow, as you can see in their wedding invitation

                                                          Hattie’s wedding invitation

That’s where I first saw her referred to as Hattie. She came to the Homestead and built a life here, raised ten children, seven boys and three girls, all born in this wonderful old house I call home. She lived here until she passed away, cared for in her later years by her son, my Uncle Elmer and his wife, my favorite Auntie Arlene, well known to readers of this blog.

We saw Grandma often, as on any given Sunday we’d drive to what my Dad called The Farm, the place he grew up along with his brothers and sisters, the children of Her Father’s Homestead, and the place we visited with those aunts, uncles and cousins, because this was where Grandma lived. So many memories… A white-haired Grandma, saying grace in German and smiling; I remember her smile just like you see in the picture in the barnyard with my Grandpa, who passed away long before I was born.

That photo is a bit unusual for its time in that it shows what’s today called a public display of affection – Grandpa has his arm around her, she’s snuggled into him and is holding his hand and she’s smiling. In the background of that photo, you see her brother-in-law, the gentleman with the hat, and also her son, my Uncle Elmer, twin of Alfred, who’s birthdays would be today, both passed on. So many memories…

The last photo, again a smiling Grandma, in front of what may be the old lilac tree at the corner of the house where I live.

I said a long time ago that this old Homestead of mine would tell a story, herstory, I called it. And that it has, the story of Her Father’s Homestead told through my eyes with gratitude for the women who came before me – the great grandmother I didn’t know, Grandma Buelow, Auntie Arlene and now me. Happy belated birthday, Hattie! So many memories…

     What a blessed woman I am – two special days in one week.  Today we celebrate my firstborn child, Erin Lee, born 27 years ago tonight, just just shy of midnight, changing my world forever.   I knew she was going to be Erin Lee, no ultrasound needed or taken; it wasn’t that common then.  When I told my obstetrician that I was embroidering her Christmas stocking and already had her name across the top; he reminded me that the odds were 50/50.  When I told him that I was working on her first Christmas dress – red velveteen and white satin -  he just shook his head.  And then she was born, four days overdue, in typical fashion, making a dramatic entrance in her own time – Erin Lee -  I just knew. 

     She was tiny, five pounds, thirteen ounces, and it truly was love at first sight.  I asked for her bassinette to be left in my room, not all that common then, but I couldn’t imagine them just whisking her off to a nursery.  I wanted to get to know this little miracle and that we did – gently dancing around the hospital room to the taped music I had brought along, forging an unbreakable bond.

     What I couldn’t possibly have known was the depth of motherly love that would overtake me instantly and continue to grow. We were talking about that just last week in a fun conversation about her impending birthday and nearing the age of 30, close to my age at her birth.  As I’ve had occasion to tell her over the years, there is absolutely nothing on the face of this earth that could possibly change the fact of my unconditional love for her; she was and always will be my Erin Lee. 

With her permission, I describe her as 105 pounds of pure spitfire, a force of nature.  She’s an artist in personality and temperament, unlike myself;  I’ve always been amazed at how she sees the world, from little on, with totally different eyes than mine.  I’ve saved samples of her art over the years; a fascinating  journey through the developing eye and mind of an artist’s view of her world, always a unique perspective.  It will provide the back-story when she’s famous, having her first gallery show.  In the meantime, three of her paintings hang in my home and I wear several pieces of her jewelry.

  An early reader, having completed the Laura Ingalls Wilder series at age six (a gift from her first-grade teacher during one of her many hospitalizations), she’s intelligent and articulate.  I used to joke that all the time spent in an oxygen tent paid off beautifully, the silver lining to the difficult days of chronic illness first manifested at five months.  With a gift for languages hearkening back to her early days of imitating Pepe Le Pew, the French-speaking cartoon character and a first-rate imitation of Lady, star of the movie Lady and the Tramp, this was a little girl who let you know, with a toss of her hair,  that she knew she was special and that is for certain.   When Erin Lee laughs, everybody laughs, it’s positively contagious.  She’s fiercely loyal with a wicked wit.  If you’re close to her, she may challenge you in ways that test your soul, but the result is always worthwhile; I’m smiling as I reminisce in these early-morning hours  

  My firstborn child is 27 today.  I am so very proud of the woman she has become and I am a better person for being her MummaLee.  Blessings, Erin Lee and thank you for the joy and sheer pleasure you’ve brought me over these 27 years.  I’d do it all over in a heartbeat.                                                                 

       Joyeux Anniversaire,

                     Erin Lee

                     J’adore!!!

Early morning storms and those who know me know that I love BIG weather; that’s what began just before dawn. My dogs, however, hate storms, in fact, Shadow actually moves a chair to get behind and under it, where he whines incessantly.  Soleil, not the brightest dog on the planet, seems lately to take his cue from Shadow and now whines as well.  Maybe there’s a blessing in my hearing being less than its pre-surgery state.  How’s that for a positive spin?  We all know I love spin

Back to the subject at hand.  Being here at the Homestead, I often think of how things were, as my daughters say, “back in the day.”  My first thought when the power went out was whether a power line was laying somewhere, like between my truck and me or on the roof.    My second thought was no Internet, meaning no PC or laptop.  But I was still connected, as long as my cell phone battery held out.  No lights, no running water, affecting bathroom functions as well.  You bet, with a well and an electric pump, no power means not much water available.  I believe that’s enough said, but cell phone in hand, I was able to text my dilemma to my Meghan and post on facebook.  ErinLee will hear about it later; even now, it’s only 10 a.m. in her time zone and I know better than potentially waking sleeping daughters.

Back in the day, and I’ll have to ask my  favorite Auntie Arlene, how where things at the Homestead when the power went out? Did they light candles, perhaps an oil or kerosene lamp?  I’m fairly certain they weren’t concerned about an Internet connection and didn’t have a weather radio connected to NOAA or 24/7 meteorologists on TV.  Maybe they sang together,  played a game or read a book, maybe the Bible and prayed; I’m sure I’ll hear from cousins offering information.  

So I was out of touch, but thanks to the cell, able to post on Facebook and make a few jokes about passing the time singing the blues, accompanying myself on the piano.  There’s that spin again, but to be honest, I soon tired of bad blues and fell back to my standby, not rock’nroll, fan that I am; my first thought was not the old REO anthem, Riding the Storm Out.  A favorite that seemed appropriate during this morning’s big weather was the hymn, Jesus Savior Pilot Me with the familiar lyrics, “Unknown waves before me roll.”  That old seafarer’s hymn goes on to praise the Lord for piloting us through dangerous waters and storms.

Despite all our technology, there’s a raw power to the natural world that isn’t held at bay by anything humans can create.  When the power goes out, you best believe that there is a Power beyond anything on earth and cling to that life-preserver of hope.  Being me, ya’ll knew there was a message coming and here it is.  My faith is anchored on the One who has and will continue to get me through the biggest waves and the most fearsome storms.  My hope is that you already have or find your way to this lifeline as well. 

Be blessed and make it a fabulous day, despite anything going on in your life!

Stats, ugh, I’m so not a numbers person, witness my go-round with algebra in the last year.  Those who know me know this, and know also that I believe health issues are a private matter, to be shared if so desired, but definitely not anyone’s business if you choose to keep it to yourself.  As my brother, Steve, says regularly, there’s a reason for health privacy laws.

Close family and friends also know I’m the survivor of a health challenge over the last four years, sometimes kept private and sometimes shared.  So why now and why here?  In an early-morning phone conversation with a dear friend, I was encouraged to share some health news because, as she said, share the hope!  That is the intent here.

Yesterday, during a routine MRI/check-up, my favorite doc (I have a team) gave me a number for the very first time.  After confirming my continued healing and recovery, he shared a stat with me, a statistic, and I was surprised.  I knew, statistically speaking, the initial odds were not great, but had no idea that the point I’m at now is one that, statistically speaking, only 14 out of 100 people with this challenge would reach after four years! That’s what he said – only 14% are still breathing, let alone living well, happy and fulfilled and I’m here.

It was a moment of celebration, hugs all around – my doc, his nurses, the office staff, the friend who accompanies me to all medical appointments, everybody hugging and grinning and laughing out loud – it was a time, let me tell you!!

So here I am, a statistic – feels weird, actually, and I’m not sure I fully grasp the reality, the numbers thing, you know.    Will I dwell on it?  That’s not me, but share the joy?  You bet, for the reason of encouraging others.  I’m still standing through more than one life challenge and my belief system tells me there’s a reason – a greater purpose for this life of mine and I’m here to pursue the dream, the goal, the opportunity to bless others as I have been so richly blessed!

There is hope; there is always hope, just as there is always faith and trust.  This is a great place to be on this beautiful Tuesday morning – a regular day in a regular woman’s life – could be me, could be you or your neighbor or your friend, but a regular person just trying to live my best life on all levels.  And a big AMEN to that!

Ayez un jour béni!!

Playing catch-up? Very often these days, I seem to be in catch-up mode; tonight is no exception.  With algebra going fairly well, but still time-consuming, and daily life with all that entails, things are good though the pace is frenetic. What keeps me grounded?  My faith, for sure, and the things I’m looking forward to – elder daughter will be with me in a month; I cannot wait to hug that child, though at almost 25, young woman is more appropriate.  Her sister, almost 24, is in the midst of a fairly large life event -buying a  first home; lots of excited phone calls back and forth.

With  these young women on opposite coasts and us all trying to stay involved in one another’s  lives, the time between hugs seems far too long.  My solace is that I must have done something right along the way to have two beautiful, intelligent, articulate, independent, successful young women who still count their mom as confidante and advisor.  I am so blessed and in no time at all I’ll be hugging my ErinLee and enjoying her laughter, and two months after that I’ll be hugging my Meghan Lee and hopefully visiting in her new home.  Great thoughts to keep me moving forward.

A fabulous Amma massage today certainly helped me relax and my return to a regular yoga class to readjust my form and move back toward the top of my game – all great things on the road to taking the best care of me so I can take the best care of all with which I’ve been entrusted. Be well and live on the upside of life, no matter how things appear.   Off to algebra for me.  À bientôt…

We talked yesterday about another of the Homestead’s children passing away, my Aunt Henrietta.  The day she died was one of those days you remember things about.  Later in the day I hopped on the lawn mower and rode around and around with memories tumbling through my mind.  Here I am on a lawn tractor thinking about how they cut the grass in years past.  I’ll have to ask my dad or my Auntie Arlene, married to my dad’s brother, Elmer, and a very sharp 90 year-old woman, known to her immediate family (and to me) as a prayer warrior, on her knees for those she loves.

She raised her three children here and made a home for both her mother and her mother-in-law, my Grandma Buelow.    We came here often;  Grandma lived here.  Any given Sunday we’d head to “The Farm.”  Auntie Arlene would cook for a crowd and there often was a crowd as aunts, uncles and cousins came just like my family did. A lot of memories and lots of food for thought and future writings.

The day Aunt Henrietta passed I was mowing the lawn and thinking about things, as you do when life events occur.  Mowing around the big lilac tree – don’t know what else to call it, it’s huge – I pictured my grandmother welcoming another of her children home to heaven and though sad at losing yet another family member, the image of my smiling Grandma made me happy and that, I believe, would have been their time to dance….

Note:  I began drafting this post a few days after the passing of another of the Homestead’s children, my aunt/godmother.   I’d like to expand on it now and honor her memory.

A time to mourn and a time to dance;  that’s the complete phrase.  Not an original title by any means, but so appropriate.  Another of the ten children born in this old house, the Buelow homestead, has passed on.  My Aunt Henrietta, named after her mother, my Grandma Buelow, was taken home – fairly unexpectedly.   She was my the youngest of the ten children in my father’s family and I hate to say it, this leaves him as the sole survivor of that family, the last living person who was born in this old house.

Back to my Aunt Henrietta, the unexpected passing of a woman loved by many – her husband, children, grandchildren, nieces,nephews and her last remaining sibling, my father.  Another reminder that there is indeed a time.

Mourning is different depending on the relationship.  I’d never claim my loss as being close to that of her children.  For me it’s more about the passing of time, the passing into history of someone I knew and loved.  I’m a traditionalist – history and tradition are important to me.  History  reminds me where we’ve been and the rich heritage  and hardy stock from  which  I come.  Tradition, as I tell my daughters, is the glue that binds us together.

And we’ll continue these thoughts in Part Two.

There was a time when the night before Ash Wednesday would have my attention more for what was happening at Mardi Gras in New Orleans and Rio than for any spiritual meaning.  Tonight is different.

I’ve had an interesting week and am feeling very blessed!  I was given insight into a situation that had been on my heart and the message was very positive and hopeful.  I’ve once again had the opportunity to participate in a big way in making a difference in some one’s life and there is nothing that compares to the feeling!!!  I’ve also had a situation that could have been fairly upsetting, but instead I’ve seen the miracle in it and am giving thanks.  And I mean miracle, plain as day.

I believe I’ve mentioned my current Bible study and it gets into the whole concept of miracles, what’s real, what’s not, what can we ask for and what can we claim.  It is so timely in my life.

I’m coming up on the three-year mark of what  I believe to be being healed of brain cancer.  Three years ago at this time I was enduring unbelievable headaches, pain beyond description, even for someone who had suffered intense migraines for decades.

I’ll not recount it here, as it’s a life event that occurred and is in the past.  Lent and Easter of 2006, though, were intense times and many lessons have been learned and many memories made since then.  I said then and have lived it since – no health challenge is going to define me.  Shape perhaps, maybe even refine or hone some of my beliefs, but defined by a physical challenge?  No thanks!!

So embarking on this Lenten 2009 journey of leaving behind SHOULD and its ensuing guilt,  I’m a very grateful, very thankful, very fulfilled woman, living daily in wonder at the blessings I have and see all around me.  Everything peachy?  Not quite, but compared to where I’ve been, things look pretty good.  The French refer to la vie en rose; I’d say it’s all in how you choose   Adieu……

Who knew when deciding to embark on the next 30 days to leaving the Shoulds and an Illegitimate Ruler behind that it would coincide beautifully with Lent?  Well, Someone knew and ya gotta love how these things work out   So my Lenten journey it will be.

I’ve never been one to “give something up for Lent.”  Why?  Because I was raised in a traditional Protestant denomination and we didn’t do that.  As an adult I did, however, observe Lent in some way.  The one that sticks out  in my mind ALWAYS was the year I decided to switch to a Lent focus for our breakfast devotional time, more than a decade ago.

Those were still the days of getting children out the door to school each morning.  They were growing up, though, not little girls any more – both freshman that year (longer story) – two different schools, different start times, one requiring me to drive  12+ miles one way.   But we continued breakfast together every day – cereal, oatmeal, french toast, whatever, served on the breakfast counter with juice and supplements and a quick devotional to send us all out the out the door wrapped in peace and love against a cruel world.

The year in question I chose to switch to a Lent focus by reading portions of one of my favorite authors, Max Lucado.  Max has great books for everything but my favorites for Lent are  Six Hours One Friday, No Wonder They Call Him Savior, He Still Moves Stones, Applause of Heaven.  My thought was to use a small portion of one of the books each morning, but that was not so well received.  One of my daughters began to protest about the extra time it would take, and we all know time in the morning can be at a premium.    One thing led to another and in short order our morning sharing time was not so pretty.  I was hanging on to my right as the mother to insist.  My daughter was hanging on to her position as a young teenage girl.  So sparks began to fly, with the other daughter caught in the crossfire.  So much for sending my children out into the cruel world wrapped in peace and love each morning.

My good friend, Marlee, veteran Bible study partner and (at that time) mom of teenage daughters a few years ahead of mine, was a great resource.  So I went to her with my dilemma and lo and behold, the advice was not what I was anticipating.  She was supposed to tell me that I was absolutely right in my right to insist and that I should stand firm.  Didn’t happen.  What I got was the advice that perhaps the time had come to release my daughter’s relationship with the Lord to my daughter and the Lord.  What??  I’m her mother!!  It’s not time yet and I’ll decide!!  Think maybe I had challenges with the “Shoulds” way back then

I had to do something and gave sincere thought to Marlee’s suggestion, took it in prayer, and went to separate breakfast times and back to the original plan of a brief teen-centric devotion and less strain in the morning.  I don’t remember how long we continued the routine of devotion in the morning, but I believe through most of high school.  One of those rites of passage, but a treasured memory in this mother’s heart.  AND I just took a moment from writing this post and called Marlee.  We had a brief conversation, chuckled together at the memories and made arrangements to get together soon.  And Lent 2009 begins in a few days….