A little over three hours away, a different life seems to have disappeared with the twinkling of the eye. The summer plans all seem to be gone. When the Michigan governor announced the closure of all schools for the rest of the year, my bucket list for the remaining months in Michigan seemed to vanish.
I feel a little sadness thinking about leaving the rental. My dear friend, Gwyn, cousin Julie, and another friend, Kristi only live minutes from 1891, my name for the rental. Another friend, Dianne, lives about 50 minutes away. Although we haven’t made the final decision to pack up the rental, it does seem inevitable.
The sadness, however, is momentary because I know those events can still occur. I won’t be substituting in the schools, but I may do that again in a different way. I wanted to connect with certain college students living in Michigan, but it may still happen. I wanted to spend time at the beach, but the beach has not vanished. My friends and cousins are a mere 3 hours away. We can make it work!
I think I feel most sad for high school seniors. Their moments will not come back or be replaced. It won’t be the same for them and I feel a depth of sadness for their missed memories. Hopefully, their friendships will be strengthened during these uncertain times and better times will come.
It’s difficult not to think about the nursing home residents— not only my father but all the others as well. It must feel like jail to them at times. I often wonder– do the aides ever wheel them to their doors and then have some kind of parade as entertainment? Or are they just trying to get through the day? How do they address their emotional needs?
In the midst of it, Chloe is making letter writing to my father as part of her daily routine. I find it in my inbox every day– letter for Opa– and then forward it to Kellie, the director. It’s a reminder to reach out to those who are by themselves. I hope that the virus will remind us to be more intentional and reach out to those most vulnerable. Here is one part of her letter.
In the book I mentioned in an earlier post, One Thousand Tracings, pictures of people reading letters and addressed envelopes can be found throughout the book. At the beginning of the book, it starts with the phrase, “But just before Christmas, a letter arrived that changed everything.” References to letter writing continue on just about every page. The reminder is real. Letter writing is important. I hope we can continue to utilize the postal system as this journey continues.
One of my favorite verses is 1 Peter 1: 3, ” Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us a new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil, or fade.” It’s a perfect way to end this day that stretched my emotions in different ways.
My dear aunt, diagnosed with cancer in 2019 and thought it disappeared, now learned that it has come back with a vengeance. My cousins, filled with disbelief, are trying to cope with the news. I sent one a text and she immediately phoned me back, crying and saying that she needed conversation. It is so difficult.
My cousins- Julie and Rhonda- sisters
While on Facebook, I watched, appalled as a young person from Kansas was literately having a mental breakdown and recording it for anyone to watch. I sent her messages, but it didn’t seem to help. I messaged her father, hoping he could help her. It was unbelievable.
A church email appeared, asking prayer for a cancer victim who learned that she will need to face an upcoming surgery alone due to the virus. She is overwhelmed when she thinks about the length of time she will need to be away from her family.
But then another email came titled “Sharing Our Words”. Written by Corey’s math teacher, it reminded readers of the first question and answer of the Heidelberg catechism. It reminded me of our eternal hope, our Lord and Savior. Here is his reflection:
Ancient Words, Ever True“What is your only comfort in life and death?” The Heidelberg Catechism wastes no time asking and answering one of life’s most important questions. To whom or what do you go to in life’s most difficult times? Many people refer back to truths such as the Heidelberg Catechism instilled in them when they were young.
My wife, Kelly, paints decorative signs and had a customer ask for a custom order of Lord’s Day 1. Custom orders can be tough because she is tasked with creating a new design in a short period of time. However, she was eager to create a design for Question and Answer 1 of the catechism. She grew up at Cutlerville East CRC and went to catechism every Wednesday, so she knows the question and answer well. As a child Kelly was often indifferent to what she was learning, but now as an adult she is truly grateful for the treasure she was given. She has a place to turn when facing difficulties in life. The testimonies she receives from customers reveal that many people around the world feel the same way. Here is an excerpt from an email she received from a customer who ordered Q & A #1.
Hi Kelly! We’re so excited that you’re painting this for us!
I was so happy to come across your paintings. This catechism question is such an incredible reminder of the hope and comfort we have in Christ. My wife and I have had a rough year. We have experienced three miscarriages in a little over a year. But God has been so incredibly gracious and loving to us – flooding our hearts with joy and admiration in the midst of our suffering. So we wanted to hang this painting in our home as a reminder of the great hope and comfort that our Father has given us through Jesus. I just wanted you to know that your painting will hold very special meaning to us!
Where do people turn when they are hurting? Many turn to the Heidelberg Catechism, and, ultimately, to God. Finding words can be difficult when you’re hurting, but Q & A #1 gives thoughtful comfort. To whom do I belong? Jesus Christ, the son. Who watches over me so that not even a hair can fall from my head without Him knowing? God, the Father. Who guides my heart to navigate the future? The Holy Spirit. I’m thankful we have a God who walks with us through difficult times and also for those who have put His truths into words. by Josh Rozema
While cleaning out the basement, I re-discovered one of my favorite books, One Thousand Tracings by Lita Judge. Rereading it caused me to pause and think about my simple contributions toward the virus. What can I do amidst so much pain and worry?
The book, based on the author’s discovery in her grandmother’s attic, focused on a box containing many envelopes with foot tracings of people from all over Europe. Americans received the foot tracings from those in need and sent shoes matching them. This powerful story reminds readers of the importance of helping others in need.
During this virus, I am trying to think of ways to help. One way is by delivering food. A local teacher organized a relief effort, actions I applaud. However, I have to admit my skepticism. Do these people really need the food? Are they real? I delivered food yesterday, dropped the box in front of the door, and never saw anyone pick it up. I decided to leave, texted, and received a thank you. But why didn’t I see anyone? Upon returning home, I received another message from the person organizing the effort. “Another person needs help. Can you do it?” I declined and asked them to find another person. I already visited the grocery store to find the items for the first person and spent considerable amount of time putting the items together. Guilt plagued me the rest of the day. Should I have just done it? Should I donate to Food Finders instead? They are people who know how to deal with those in need better than me. Or is that a copout?
In the book, those in need sent letters describing their plight. Our home was bombed and we lost everything. My little girl and baby boy and I lived in a cellar with two other families for five weeks, with only beans to eat. My husband is still missing. Now we live with my father. Anything would be helpful. My little girl, Eliza, has blond hair like floating flax. Now she is pale and no longer plays. The character responded to the letter by sewing a rag doll for Eliza.
Is that part of my discomfort? Is it because I didn’t really sense a legitimate need? I didn’t see an actual person pick up the box, so I immediately became suspicious. The text I received was simple and didn’t mention the books I included for the children. It didn’t include a thanks for the diapers and pull-ups, items I had to head to the grocery store to purchase. Do I even have a right to do this? Ugh. Maybe I will focus my efforts elsewhere.
A few weeks ago, I responded to the need for child care. I packed up some groceries, included educational materials, and headed south of town to take care of three children for the afternoon. They were excited to see my materials and were open to my ideas. The mother left for work and we stayed inside for the day. The challenging part of the day came when one child became angry with a sibling over a tablet. He started throwing items in the small apartment. I felt a sense of sympathy for him but hoped he would stop if we ignored him. His anger intensified and I started feeling a sense of panic. Just as I said, “let’s pray about this”, there was a knock at the door. Their grandfather decided to stop and say hello. My smile could not have been wider. He managed to calm his grandson down much to my relief. But then I started thinking other thoughts, “Why am I here when their own relative is visiting and can take care of them?” I steered the conversation toward his home, located outside the city on a large parcel of land. “Wouldn’t it be neat to have your grandkids stay with you?” I encouraged. I texted the mom and asked if it would be better to have me leave since the grandfather arrived. No, she texted. Again, I wondered about the need. But was it my right to wonder? If someone has a need, do I have the right to question it? Did the people in the war question others needs? Again, I felt guilty for my thoughts. What is the right response to these needs?
I think the response is to pray and trust that God is working even if the needs do not seem legitimate or worthy to me. It is not really my place to do that right now. The virus is placing everyone in need of something. If I can provide a simple answer to a need, I should respond. He will do the rest.
A month ago, I contacted my brother regarding Easter plans to be sure my father would be taken care of on that day. Easter would have been at the end of our spring break. How quickly everything has changed!
What will Easter look like this year? How can churches share Easter online? How can Christian schools teach the Easter stories?
I have been pondering this for several days and decided to make my own set of Easter videos. “Mom, that is a lot of work for very few people,” my son stated when I asked him to tape it. But I will persevere regardless. I already created one video for Travis, the first grader from Dutton. I will do an Easter series for him.
The next step is to think about the parts of Easter. I decided to follow the format of the Easter stories in my Bible curriculum from third grade.
I don’t really know how this will turn out, but I know one thing– the Easter message will be communicated in a very different way this year. God is moving and working among His people. He will reveal Himself. We only need to be ready to listen.
Taking walks around Wexford Woods fills me with hope- hope for spring, hope for an end to the virus, and hope that I can see my father soon. I see the daffodils opening up. The peonies are waking up out of their winter slumber. I need to remember this as yesterday seemed hopeless.
Surprised, I answered his call. “Dad?” I asked, hoping he could hear me. Our conversation was good, considering that he could barely hear. Some of it was actually funny. I kept asking, “Did you get my letters?” He answered, “Are you asking me about water? Yes, I should drink more water.” He talked about the virus and said how it didn’t even compare to his war experiences and that it was worse. We ended the call on a positive note.
However, a few hours later, everything changed. He called again, but he was despondent and frustrated. “I’m so lonely. I cannot hear anything.” His cries continued as I listened. I tried using the lower tones of my voice. ” Read your Bible, Dad,” I urged him. “What? What did you say?” he continued to ask. It was a conversation filled with frustration. He ended it by thanking me for the call. I immediately called Royal Park and asked them to check on him. It seemed like the only thing I could do. I sat at the kitchen table with my family and cried.
A different text came yesterday as well. My aunt’s cancer is back. My cousin is devastated.
But yet, there is hope. God has my father in the palm of His hand. I need to cling to this truth. I need to rejoice always, even though it is painful. He never promised that the journey would be easy, but He does promise that He is always with us. I cling to His truths as I try to encourage my father from afar.
I see it all around: people rising up to help others whether it be organizing a sign-up, radio stations reminding us to choose joy, Facebook posts of favorite Bible verses, and then photos of people helping others. Another person has created a site where you can upload a picture of thanks to health care professionals working so hard to help those affected by the virus. But I think my favorite one is of my sister-in-law wearing her created mask.
I talked to her on the phone while she was working on them. Her first one turned out too small, but she persisted and created the one in the photo. She plans on mailing a few to my in-laws and other family members. I admire her efforts. She is an LPN at a pediatric medical office and works full-time, but yet, she still found time to sew these masks.
It reminded me how we all need to do our part, whether it is sending an encouraging note to someone in a nursing home, organizing a sign-up, or anything else that may brighten someone’s day.
It came while I was videotaping Smore Spot for one of the first graders at Dutton. Silence and then the voice of my father. “Michelle! It’s Dad. I am so sorry. How can you forgive me? I know I did something really bad, but I can’t remember what it was. I don’t know how anyone could forgive me.” He rambled on, without give me a chance to respond at first.
He was referring to inappropriate comments he made to various people. The comments are too awful to repeat, but they will forever leave a hole of sadness. As we continue to reflect upon his medical and emotional condition, we realize that dementia can cause people to do crazy and evil things. We also realize that he definitely has dementia and know that he should be at Waterford, the same facility where my mother resided. At this point, they do not have any openings for new residents.
Knowing that he needed to hear me say words of affirmation, I lowered my voice tone so it sounded more like a male’s. It seemed to work and he responded with gratefulness, relieved that I forgave him. I reminded him of the cross and the hope we have in Him, but I don’t know if he heard that part. The conversation ended, but my walk in Wexford Woods continued.
Burnett’s Creek weaves its way throughout Wexford Woods. It is a place of peace during turbulent times.
Our Michigan church, Caledonia CRC, organized a prayer vigil for today. People signed up for a spot and committed to a thirty minute time of prayer for the coronavirus. I sat on the green bench, located near Burnett’s Creek. Waves of sadness for the people of New York City, our economy, and the many people who are suffering entered my thoughts as I fervently prayed. “God, please take this away. Wash our world like the waters of the creek wash the pebbled stones.”
As I walked on the paths, I observed signs of spring. Tree buds are opening, flowers are appearing, and the birds were singing. He is here, our eternal hope, as the journey continues.
It’s hard to articulate what it’s like to email my father without a response. After I sent it, the director emailed back and said she would deliver it sometime during the day, but I don’t want her to feel like she has to respond to me. I know she is busy with so many matters and don’t want to be a burden. But yet.. I wonder. What does he say when they deliver the letter? How many times does he read it? Is he asking them to write back?
It’s interesting to observe how people are resorting to letter writing again during the virus. A very creative teacher started a Snail Mail movement, as she termed it. I applaud her creativity and feel inspired by it. Another friend on Facebook asked for people to mail letters to a person I taught with in northern Michigan. My cousin posted her mother’s address and asked people to send cards since she is deaf and is restricted from visitors. It reminds me of the importance of teaching letter writing to students!
While at Dutton, the first graders became penpals with first graders at Lafayette Christian. I usually placed the received letters on their desks while they were learning in a different classroom. You would have thought they received gold! Students either kept them in a folder or took them home. No recycling of these precious papers!
Whatever the form- texting, emailing, phoning, or Snail Mail– we need to stay connected!
This will always be my favorite letter to my mother.
My brother has been urging me to try a different way of phone calling. Instead of me talking to my father, he has suggested that Mitch calls because his voice is a different tone. I haven’t done it yet, mainly because I feel it will be incredibly frustrating much like my phone call to him last week.
“What did you say?” he would inquire. I would repeat the question, shouting at the top of my lungs. The funniest comment was when he said, “Well, I don’t know what you are saying, but maybe you are telling me that you are having a baby. Now that WOULD be something!” We ended the conversation by saying goodbye, but I didn’t know if he even understood that part.
Letter writing seems easier, although he doesn’t write back. I wrote an email and my brother printed it off and dropped it off at the facility. My brother, always looking for better solutions, emailed the director who happily agreed to print off any letters and deliver to my father. The new system will take place tomorrow, March 24.
In this crazy coronavirus era, I am grateful for technology and how it connects us to families and friends.
Custom orders can be tough because she is tasked with creating a new design in a short period of time. However, she was eager to create a design for Question and Answer 1 of the catechism. She grew up at Cutlerville East CRC and went to catechism every Wednesday, so she knows the question and answer well. As a child Kelly was often indifferent to what she was learning, but now as an adult she is truly grateful for the treasure she was given. She has a place to turn when facing difficulties in life. The testimonies she receives from customers reveal that many people around the world feel the same way. Here is an excerpt from an email she received from a customer who ordered Q & A #1.
A Journey Worth Remembering 