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One of my memories during our Netherlands’ sabbatical was celebrating two birthdays: Chloe turned seven and Corey turned two. Chloe wanted to celebrate by visiting a dolphinarium while we celebrated Corey’s day with a simple dinner supper.

This year, we celebrated Caden’s birthday by having a birthday filled with his favorite activities: a hike on Mt. Pisgah and along the beach, a lunch at Windmill Restaurant in Holland, birthday cake with his cousins, aunt, uncle, and grandfather, and then a quiet evening at home. His girlfriend also shared in the event which made it even better!

Two days later, we celebrated again as Mitch enjoyed his day with friends and family.

A journey is not complete without celebrations along the way!

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My father’s Dutch blood showed up in December while reading an advertisement in the Royal Park hallway. “Find the Christmas Elf, hidden somewhere in Royal Park, and you will receive chocolate” the sign read. I found it comical to see him looking for this little elf as we walked around the atrium. Imagine his excitement when I told him that I saw it. “Really?” he questioned me. I wheeled him in the area where I located it and made sure he discovered it on his own. He proudly showed the activity director who awarded his prize, a box of chocolates. It reminded me of how little games can boost one’s mood and create joy in a place where days can be long and residents miss loved ones. It reminded me that variety is definitely the spice of life.

Royal Park uses the services of a local interior decorator to add charm and warmth to the facility. I would love to meet this person and shower her or him with compliments and encouragement. It added joy to my visits, added warmth to the surroundings, and distracted him at times when he felt sadness. One December day, I took the opportunity to photograph the area. I am so glad that I have these photos to remember the decorating in December.

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“I am not sure if you know how much your card meant to my father,” I shared with a person from my father’s church. She nodded politely. If she could have seen my father’s smile, she would have understood it better. “Thirty-two cards!” he announced to me, one day in December. “Can you believe it?” His eyes misted with tears, but they were joyful tears.

We decided that they needed to be displayed in a prominent place, so I strung them across the television stand. “They won’t all fit,” he remarked, rather proudly. Remembering how my mother-in-law always taped her cards on the banisters, I climbed on a chair to tape them on the window frame.

When I return to Michigan, it may be time to take them down, but I want him to do something else with these cards. They definitely added joy to his life and reminded him of people who care.

Thrilled, excited, and thankful are some of my thoughts as I prepare for a twelve week long term substitute position starting on Monday. As I prepare while here in Indiana, I see the piles growing. Books, math aids, posters, puppets, Valentines, and a host of other items are moving to Michigan. Will I use all of them? It’s doubtful! Is there a place to put it all? I hope so!

My suitcase, packed with my January clothing due to the school’s month-long spirit theme, almost didn’t shut. Termed “January Perk-ups”, each day in January is designated with a different theme. Polka Dot/ Plaid, International, and Yipes! Stripes Day will definitely add to the excitement of returning to school. Being able to say that I know what I will wear for a complete month is definitely a perk!

A warmer winter coat, boots, and ice-skates that haven’t been worn in years will also be included in the move! After all, Michigan weather is unpredictable! How many snow days will occur? Last year’s count was a whopping 12-15!

However, this move may be the best one yet because we are hoping that Mitch can finally be with us in Michigan. We could probably term it “The sabbatical that never happened” since he spent the majority of his weekdays at Purdue the past semester. Despite the inconvenience, he managed to drive to Michigan on most weekends.

Another move, while somewhat of a hassle, definitely has its benefits. Decluttering reminds me of the many blessings and unnecessary items I need to donate or trash. It also reminds me of God’s countless blessings as the journey continues.

Coming soon— December pictures.

Remembering, musing, wishing, evaluating decisions, reviewing financial plans, decluttering closets, home repairs, goal setting, are only some of the activities on this last day of the year.

As I look back on this last year, I marvel at how God orchestrated it. How did I get so blessed to be able to move back to Michigan to be near my aging parents, help with my mother’s declining condition, and renew past friendships?

The same question repeats as we gather with friends living in Indiana over break. What are you doing next year? Where will Corey attend school? Where will you teach? The same questions are ones we also ask, but it comes down to the same answer: trust.

While listening to Rick Warren’s podcast, “Daily Hope” I am reminded of an important truth: trust in God’s timing. It’s perfect.

However, it’s definitely not easy. My mind wants to head a different path and it’s dangerous. It’s the “What if” path I always remind students to avoid when discussing various emergency scenarios. “What if the fire drill goes off during a tornado?” is their favorite. I tend to do the same thing. What if my father passes away when we move back to Indiana and I am not able to attend to his needs? What if my father passes away while I am completing the upcoming long-term substitute assignment? What if my father gets the flu during the winter months? What if we need to move him once again to another health care facility since Royal Park only offers assisted living? I know I could list more, an indication of my tendency to worry about God’s plan.

Lyrics of Steven Curtis Chapman’s song force the worry out and I remember. I remember God’s faithfulness this past year: the celebration of my mother’s life and how my father grasped my hand in triumph during the song “Great is Thy Faithfulness”. I recall the moments of praising God for the rich spiritual legacy my parents instilled in our family, the reminders of my mother saying, “Just pray about it” when faced with uncertainties, and the joy of eternal hope. Despite the moments of sadness this past year, I remember the joy and know that this journey will continue as the master conductor leads and shows us the way.

I really try not to cry in public or even in front of my family members. When I watch a sad movie and Mitch is in the room, I hurriedly walk into the bathroom, turn on the sink faucet, and allow the sound of water to drown out my tears.

I often rationalize sad moments. “It was for the best” I conclude and move on to whatever task is at hand. I didn’t cry at high school graduation. It seemed pointless.

But it’s different this year.

When the pastor at the church we are attending announced that another spot of cancer had been discovered on his body, I found the tears starting to flow. I realized later that it caused a big splotch of mascara underneath my eye. Those with whom I conversed must have noticed the black mass, but they were too polite to comment.

Wrapping presents for family members reminded me that I would not wrap a present for my mother. The tears flowed causing wet splotches on some of the paper.

Decorating our Christmas tree with various ornaments reminded me of my parents’ tree cluttered with every type of ornament you can imagine.

Attending my great-niece’s church program and Corey’s Christmas concert reminded me of how my mother always saved any program announcement. She would collect them and then show them to me. One program she particularly enjoyed was my niece’s ballet recital. “Beautiful” were her words and she would shake her head in wonder at how a program would be choreographed to share a story. The mission of the ballet program is “preparing the dancer in body and spirit to glorify God through artistic excellence”. https://turningpointedance.org.

Other memories include certain gifts. My brother always created a photo calendar for my parents. He included various pictures taken throughout the year. This treasured calendar was prominently displayed and admired. I remember Chloe, a thoughtful gift giver, telling me that I should purchase a sweat suit for my mother. It proved to be a very comfortable for my mother after she broke her femur this past summer.

Memories– precious and emotional– remind me to embrace the moments… as the journey continues.

It’s hard to contain my excitement! Chloe is coming home a week from today after living in Dublin for the semester. I am thrilled that she will be back in the States again!

As I scroll back through my photos, I realize again how much has occurred since she left. She will be returning to Michigan, now absent of her grandmother. Will she want to see the gravesite? Will she struggle with it being the first Christmas without my mother’s presence?

It will be a joyful reunion and I look forward to it with eager anticipation.

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Receiving a Dutch chocolate letter at Christmas is one tradition we always cherish. What is it about that box containing the initial of your first name that makes Christmas extra special? Maybe it is the thought of my parents driving to the Dutch store, picking out the initials for everyone.

Because I want to be sure this tradition doesn’t end, I purchased the letters and headed to Royal Park so my father could wrap them. On the way, I felt happy thinking about wrapping presents with my father. It sounded like such a great way to spend a Saturday afternoon.

However, these feelings soon dissipated upon entering the room. My father, awakened from a deep nap. ” I didn’t sleep last night” he explained. ” I am so tired.” Inwardly sighing, I encouraged him. ” Come on, Dad. Let’s get out of your room and wrap these Dutch letters.” He wearily stood up and reached for his walker. About halfway, he sat down, rather unsteadily. My mind starting racing. ” Do you have a headache?” He responded that he was extremely tired. I went back for the wheelchair and wheeled him to a large table, perfect for our project. After finishing, he seemed to wake up a bit and then started asking again for the history of my mother’s passing. Referring to my photos, I explained the events since the summer. He didn’t remember any of the places where he lived , his stay in the hospital, or that he fell during the night. Tears fell when he reminisced about my mother. After a brief amount of time, he pleaded with me to take him back to his room for rest.

Heading back on M-6, the sadness of the afternoon consumed my thoughts. Thinking about my father and his fatigue worries me. Why is he still having troubles with sleep? Is it old age? It was somewhat comforting to chat with another resident at Royal Park who mentioned her sleep issues, too. But are his issues related to something else? I remembered his hospital stay. “Your father has broken heart syndrome,” the doctor explained. “It is a proven medical condition.” Is that why he is so tired?

Despite my worries, I need to continually trust in God’s perfect timing and how He constantly takes care of my father. I need to cling to His promises and remember: He is faithful.

It’s embarrassing to see how many emails I keep. It’s like I have become an email hoarder. For some reason, cleaning out my digital files is never high on my priority list. I always respond to those that need an answer but tend to keep the old ones which leads to comments by others. One teacher always commented on it, causing me to shrug. I felt like saying, “Why do you care?” but that would be rather snarky. Today, I decided that I better get rid of them.

Imagine my delight when I opened an email, dated November 2018, from my mother. Here it is:

A little extra  thought from Oma.

Because of Bethlehem, I have a Savior in heaven

Christmas begins what Easter celebrates.

The child in the cradle became the King on the cross.
Love Oma

It was a little Christmas present that I promptly forwarded to my brother who also viewed it as a gift. Merry Christmas, Mom.