Mother's Day Memories

As I was wishing all my friends on Twitter who are mothers a happy Mother's Day this morning, I realized that it has been 41 years this summer that my mother went on to be with the Lord.

One of the memories that I have of her is when I was yet a very young fellow and we lived there in Middlebury. I must have done something bad, I can not remember what, but there must have been some lying involved. She preached to me the sins of lying and how people who lie will go to the lake of fire and burn forever. She preached it so well that I remember later that afternoon still watching behind me, expecting that anytime now the car with the guys who would haul me off to that lake of fire would show up and it would be over.

One time I was perhaps slow in following some command and again, I can not remember what it was. She was making popcorn and I really liked popcorn and of course wanted some. She did not let me have any until I had completed the task, then she made a big popcorn bowl just for me.

And of course the Monday when I was perhaps around 4 or 5. We had just had church at our house the day before and there were left overs from the church dinner, including some cold coffee in a big kettle (like a 10 qt or something). I saw the coffee and decided that I really wanted some and that it would be good, very good in fact. I tried to convince her but at first she refused to let me have any. Suddenly she changed her mind, said that I could have some, poured me a cup and then taunted me after I had taken one taste about why I was not drinking the coffee. She was not a coffee drinker and I am sure she thought this cured me. Sorry, Mama, but I like my coffee hot. And if you were here today, you would have enjoyed a hot cup yourself. How grand that would have been. To share that cup together with Mama and our family on this glorious Mother's Day of 2010.

At least we have the memories.

Remembering My Father: Fernandis R. Graber

Three years ago this month I found myself standing in a little Amish cemetery near La Grange, Indiana and watching while my father was being lowered into his grave and then covered with the earth to which we all shall return one day. It was a day of mixed feelings for me as well as for my brothers and sisters.

Dad had been born in Middlebury, Indiana 78 years earlier in the early years of the Great Depression. He had married my mother in 1951. Then he, along with mother, served in Terre Haute, Indiana in the IW or Conscientious objector program. Six and a half years after their marriage I was born and was the only child till more than ten years later when my sister arrived in 1968. Three and a half years before she was born we had left both dad and my childhood home of Middlebury, Indiana and moved to Missouri. Mother had suffered with cancer before my sister was born and was in remission but sometime after that it all came back and she passed away in 1969 just days after my sister's first birthday. Dad married again in 1970 to Suvilla Stutzman who stepped right in and took on the job of raising us and being the help meet she was meant to be. Sister Ruby was born in 1971 and Vernon joined us in 1972. In 1973 we moved back to Michigan (and I say back, because for Dad it was going back closer to his childhood home) where LeAnna was born. Four years of living in Michigan and we moved to La Grange County, Indiana where Irene and Henry were born. This place on 400W in La Grange County became the old home place for Dad's family, even though I left home and married later that year. Dad eventually built a Doddy house there and Henry moved into the big house when he was married to Leah and they took over the farm from Dad. Here in LaGrange County, less than 15 miles from his childhood home, Dad lived out his years.

So there I was, with most of my family around me, on a cold day in February 2007, watching as the era of Dad's life here on earth came to a close. I remembered standing at another grave hundreds of miles away on a hot August day in 1969 when my mother was being lowered into the grave. I remembered so many things that had happened over the years in my life that had involved Dad. I remembered a year earlier when my Uncle Ora had passed on and Dad was there, on a wheelchair, to witness the events. It was a bitter cold day in Bronson, Michigan where that funeral was held in someone's workshop and Dad was very cold. I was able to spend several hours with him and Mom the next morning before heading back to Detroit in my rental car and flying back home to Texas, never seeing him alive again. But it was a very good visit. We talked about things from over the years and dad recounted memories he had. We talked like we hadn't talked in years. I remembered when we had left the Amish in Montana years earlier. Dad had protested in his way. He didn't like it. But eventually he accepted it. Accepted it to a point. And there, that morning, around the kitchen table in Dad's house, we for the first time in years, had a wonderful time together. Right now I can't remember much that we talked about. But that doesn't matter right now.

But standing there beside his grave that morning, I was flooded with a flood of memories. Memories that are still coming back today. His life was over, but we are still living and still bringing to memory things he did and said over the years. The good times we had. The not so good times that we had gone through. But in my heart I had forgiven him for things that had happened that I didn't like. Things that had affected me in ways that I didn't like. Things in which I thought he was wrong. Was he wrong? No, usually not, but stubborn first born sons often think like that. But now I was filled with a peace. We had made our peace a year earlier. And I am very thankful to this day for those few hours we spent around the kitchen table in his house that morning.

Christmas 2009

Christmas 2009 turned out to be very special in several ways.

Today I was thinking about Christmases past and realized I don't have many memories specifically of Christmas when I was young. I have memories of Christmas at school because at school we made a big deal out of it. We had gift exchanges, special games that day, singing the Christmas songs (yes, including many songs about Santa Claus). We always had a day just before Christmas that we did not do lessons but did special Christmas stuff all day. Those were the days we pushed all the desks up against each wall of the little one-room schoolhouse (plus an entry) there near Clark, Missouri and we would play games that involved the whole school including the teacher. Later we would exchange greetings, get candy and oranges and stuff like that from the teacher and exchange gifts. We had exchanged names earlier. Actually I can't remember having a program for the parents. I really don't think we did. Later when we (Mom and I) were teachers we did have programs for the parents and that was the big Christmas thing but back in the day in Clark I don't think we really had any Christmas programs.

Then on the actual Christmas day I have very few memories. Seems like perhaps we often went to Aunt Edna's house but we didn't call it that. We just called it 'Elmers". We went to Elmers a lot so they all blend together. But we often went to other people as well when we were invited. I remember the big dinners and things like that. Christmas as a day became more special to me, at least the way I remember it now, after I was a teenager and we moved to Michigan. Now we were closer to Indiana and all the aunts and uncles in the area, so we often got together around Thanksgiving or Christmas with all the aunts and uncles and cousins. Those were special times. I remember the uncles telling all kinds of stories about when they were younger.

After we were married it became more about family, at least the way I remember it. I am not sure just how soon we started having a big deal with the family at home for Christmas, but it definitely was already happening in Montana, perhaps in Tennessee. Before that it was usually something we did with the extended family, such as a dinner or something. For me it was also marked in Amish church, as at Christmas you would restart the year with the scriptures that were to be used in Amish church service. You would start real close to Christmas with Luke 1 and 2 as the chapters of choice for reading that Sunday in church. Then it would be followed by Matthew 2 and 3 (usually including part of chapter 1), and then the year would follow the pattern that was set by tradition.

Today for us it has become, and rightfully so, a family thing. And that is exactly what happened in New Mexico this year. We all somehow got there, strangling in over a day or so. Actually it probably wasn't that bad, but some of us had more snow and ice to deal with than others. Personally we had a very nice drive to NM and then a very nice drive home. The Lord was good to put the snow up just a bit higher in elevation that I didn't really have to live in it every day, but we were able to go up into the snow and the children had especial fun in it.

When we did the family picture in front of the tree, starting with Mom and then working our way through the family, that was special. Somehow it brought back memories of bygone times, when the family was smaller. It wasn't always like this, and it won't stay like this for long. The most sure thing about life and living is that there will be change. There will be births.........and marriages....and inevitably.......deaths.


Somehow I was abruptly reminded of that when the tree was being decorated and Joseph brought out his contribution -- the little egg shaped balls with every persons name painted on them. I didn't think of it right away, and nobody else did either. But all of a sudden it hit me, and I knew I had to do something about it right away. Not everybody understood right away what was happening to me, but suddenly the memories of Timothy hit me so hard that I knew we had to do something about it, and now. I don't blame Joseph for forgetting. And I don't blame anyone else for not understanding right away. But suddenly it all came flooding back and I knew I had to do something right away. I was so thankful when one of you came up with the cross to hang there on the tree, along with all of our names, in memory of Timothy L. Graber, 1981-1981.

The following morning when we were taking the family pictures -- and again appropriately we took one special photo of where Timothy was missing.

When all of this went down back in 1981 I suppose I did not show as much emotion as I could have. But it did hurt, and there is a spot for Timothy in my heart yet. This Christmas my whole family was there, and the memory of Timothy was very fittingly included. There was just a bit more healing going on. And a bit more understanding. And a bit more of surrendering to God knowing that He sees the bigger picture when we don't. And also knowing that we just saw a bit more of that bigger picture.

There are many other memories. Coffee in the morning (from a pot that brews before you get up, but often didn't!). Mountains. Clear air. Quiet. Quiet that you could hear early mornings outside. Four wheeler rides. Games played together. Pool shot. Candy ate. Memories shared. Food cooked. Food ate together. Watching wondrous expressions on the faces of grandkids. Grandkids who were experiencing new memories but didn't realize yet how important those memories were. Knowing that somewhere out there was a great big world and stuff was going on. But for us, it was right there in that valley. On those mountains. In that house. Memories we will never forget as long as we live.

We all left there and have now gone back to our everyday lives. But somehow, those days together in NM are a link to who we where before to who we are now. And for me especially, have connected the past to the present in a way that never happened before. And I am glad for it. I really enjoyed it.