Christmas Newsletter 2012

Truthfully, it is Thanksgiving week and not yet the Advent Season.

However, since Jesus Christ is alive, has come {Advent} and remains with us {Emmanuel} and most assuredly is my Lord, { Savior} and gives me daily purpose {Father GOD Almighty}, then to write my annual Christmas newsletter is timely whenever I send it. J

 What a magnificent year 2012 has become, as I excitedly claim my 12^th grandchild and realize afresh the frailty of life and the importance of Knowing God before you Need God!

 With the Facebook phenomenon as the tip of the technologically overloaded iceberg,  some would say my life is an open book and what more is there to say in the newsletter?  I decided long ago to document my years by reviewing the Lord’s mercies to me each Christmas, so this is my written status update J for 2012.

 

Theodore Ribeiro Elsenheimer, on June 22, 2012 rocked our world with his timely, terrifying arrival. Interestingly, summer solstice was June 21, and it is supposedly the longest day of the year. I am going to challenge that date this year, however, and say that Teddy’s birth day was by far hours longer for any of us involved in his story! Did you see that I call him Teddy? His mom and dad [Rachel and Aric} call him Theodore, or Theo, and within the family there are several versions of his name. No matter what WE call him, I will always know he was called by God to give us joy unspeakable as he struggled through his first weeks of life. Joy because God answered our heart cries, and unspeakable because there will never be words to contain the emotions that kept us on our knees before God’s mighty throne of grace.

My summer trip to New Mexico was so filled with all things Teddy that I almost forgot to mention I returned from there on a mother/daughter road trip with My mom!  We saw lots of country as we drove back to Tennessee, via the Texas Panhandle and states that were so monotonous I felt sorry for the Wagon Trains of years gone by! Mom and I had a good time together and even though I never saw a Rattlesnake, I did watch a skinny coyote slink away into the cactus, and THAT was worth the trip! J  I am going again, I hope, but first checking with Guy Fieri on HGTV Diners and Drive Ins to see where we should eat.

 Admittedly, I have a poor memory, so just to be certain that I did not forget a major life event I checked my date book. There were dates marked, mostly family and friends surgeries and births, an occasional crisis, all things to pray for and about.  Grandson Ethan has a habit of writing his name in my datebook when he visits, so there were lots of ETHAN scribbles scattered throughout.

 It would appear that an entire year raced by and sweet baby Teddy claims the place of MOST IMPORTANT event in my world! He joins the ranks of an 11 year old Eliot, 10 year old Simon, 9 year old Jesse, 7 year old Nora, 6 year olds Isabel, Ava, Ethan, Bianca, Aidan and Evelyn, and formerly the baby grandson… Luke. How blessed is my world- an amazing gift!

 

 

 The beauty of gifts is that they are undeserved, unexpected, not linked at all to deeds or actions or personality characteristics, good or bad. They just are given to us in love by someone who loves us. I thank God so much for loving me , not because of who I am, what I have done, who I am not married to, what my mood is. My gift from Him, first of all in giving me access to the throne of grace~ HIM , by sending Jesus Christ to have experienced what I deserve is almost unspeakable. The gift He has given me of children, and then grandchildren, only shows me how much He indeed loves me, personally and perfectly, and I will thank Him forever for this. I thank Him that I have forever, too, and thus ends this year’s Christmas story from me to you, my dear ones. None of us knows when our story on earth comes to a final chapter, we should make certain that everything is said and done that needs to be.

 Merry Christmas! I love you, no matter that it looks differently for each one, it remains sincere.

 

PS. I think I am getting old, I heard myself call a child ‘sweetie’ last week. L yikes.

Family Reunion

Blogging about death and dying isn't one of those topics I read of very often. Believe me, there are lots of Blogs out there in cyberspace and I know because when I am at loose ends I read them! They are just random, sporadic 'view next blog' types of glances, but it has given me insights from total strangers that have been interesting if not strange. Myriads of women and men are apparently caught up in a frenzy of cooking ideas, and if Blogs are any indicator of recipe book sales, that should be my next line of work!

However , I am going to enter my scribblings into the pool of comments on death and see if I can sort my thoughts out.

Having returned from a couple of trips this summer, combined with having nobody to talk to about all of the details, has left me restless and somewhat agitated. I like to think things through by saying them out loud, as in talking to a friend , rather than just keep everything upstairs in my head. My head can be a dangerous place to live, although visitng it from time to time seems to be safe.

While in Ithaca, my hometown and recent vacation spot, I needed to visit a place that was dear to my heart.
The Cemetery.
The place where many of my late family members were buried.
To be more precise , Quick Cemetery, Brooktondale, NY, USA. 14817

I have been recently considering buying a plot of land there in order to facilitate the task of where the kids need to put me when I die. Although placing my ashes in a lovely urn and keeping them on rotating mantles might appeal to some, it has never been something I can visualize my kids doing. With my luck, I would end up scattered in some creek somewhere during a camping trip.  Don't be offended if this is your own personal choice, but for me, saving the children stress during a stress-filled life experience could possible be my final act of maternal love.

After eating a lovely lunch on a blanket outside of the old Brooktondale store, we climbed in the van and proceeeded to the Cemetery Grammy wanted to show the family. I was going down an odd sort of memory lane, so to speak. My daughter did not appear to be convinced of the value of my choice, but I wanted to explain how connected I was to the town cemetery, and sometimes words just cannot speak of such things.

First timers to this town cemetery usually speak of the peaceful quality and silent surroundings. It sits on top of a hill above the Six Mile Creek, and there are pastures all around it. Commercialism is at a minimum, no ads, or signposts and very few plastic flowers adorn the headstones. Some families carefully tend to their tombstones, and fresh flowers or planted annuals are lovingly groomed as the summer months pass into autumn.

Searching each visit for the family headstones becomes like a hunt- I never can quite remember where my family lies, just that they are somewhere on this hill. My dad died in 2001 and I know there is a headstone for he and my mom, who is still living in Tennessee. It was purchased near the overlook to the creek and is under some trees. Mom's desire is to be buried together with dad some day, and this place is where I can come and my memories will be safe to be remembered. Do we take time to visit the safe places anymore?

                                 The great grands find it and check out the stonework and details.

On the other side of the knoll I see a tombstone, it was where my maternal grandparents were laid to rest:

and over there....an uncle, an aunt, a great uncle, a great aunt, a neighbor, a family friend, parents of my uncle, my mom's cousin....each tombstone brought back a flash of memory, a tiny snapshot in my mind emerging from the rubble of time and giving me the gift of heritage.

Earlier this summer an old friend from Brooktondale died, and the sad news spread through this small town rapidly, Brooktondale being enough of a distance from Ithaca to have a strong sense of Community.  Everyone knew everyone, and Paul was the age of my younger sisters and also was the young brother of my best friend in grammar school. As an adult I knew him only slightly and had vague memories of a friendly boy with blond hair, a gentle nature and a huge smile that smacked of a mischievous nature lurking underneath. It occurred to me as I went wandering around the little graveyard paths, that maybe his grave was already designated, since I knew his relatives were also buried here. Sure enough, a new section of the cemetery had been opened and a bright spot lay in an open field next to the shadows of the main, older cemetery. Immediately a verse from Psalm 23 in the Bible pops into my head~" Yay, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil, for You are with me."

Walking through the cemetery on this hot summer day was like walking among family and friends,~ a reunion of sorts. It was forcing myself to pause in the business of living and reflect on life.  These people were vital and strong, had children and grandchildren, laughed at bad jokes and cried over sentimental movies. Some had cancer and others had heart disease and nosebleeds and skinned knees. They aren't just gray, stone graves, they are valuable parts of my life, even if for a short moment in time! I speak purposefully in the present tense because anyone who I know I tend to love forever, longing to love them into eternity.

It appeared as if I were related to the entire hill of families! I was popular  and present in this place! Tears were close to the surface as I tried to explain who was who and how my family knew that family over there with a bench ....

How could I not think this a place of importance as I creep into my 60's with aches and pains and generations dying and leaving me on the precipice? It isn't a precipice of fear, but of eternity and I am certainly ready for the rest of it to continue on, but really...am I ready?

Do I impact people in such a way that when they wander through this Cemetery in a few years and see Susan Lee Garcia Ribeiro on a headstone, they will pause for just a minute? Will they laugh at my love for birds, or my sentimentality, or will they be reminded of something I did or said that helped them enjoy this world?  Will they be certain of how much I loved God and them individually?? These thoughts rumble around like thunder on s hot summer day, causing me to long for the refreshing sense of certainty that I am not being frivolous with time.

Have I  properly recalled the memories of lives past to influence my present life ? I have decided that each future visit to Brooktondale must include a stop at this cemetery on the hill. If for no other reason than to make myself think of death as a friend to become comfortable with rather than a dark shadow to be nervous about.

I am a believer in the Lord Jesus Christ and His death gave me Life Eternal. God only wants me to Believe in Jesus ? How simply amazing and gracious of Him!! There is nothing to fear and much to live for!

I saw another tombstone once in a Cemetery:

amen. I am done thinking for today.

Thoughts for the Grandparents among us

Just returned from a short jaunt to Ithaca, New York and for some reason, it was unsettling this time. I do not return often, as evidenced by my memory pile up. This time my purpose was to join my daughter and her family  for two days in order to show her the 'important' places of her birthplace and early years. 

I was born in Ithaca, NY in Tompkins County Hospital , on a spring day so many years ago. My parents were both born there, my grandparents were a mixture of born and emigrated, so it feels as if my roots are Ithacan. I went away to college, moved to Brasil with my firstborn son and husband, then returned to live another few years as an adult in Ithaca.

Returning now, after many years away, was enlightening and difficult. My discovery was that I like the Ithaca in my mind alot better than the Ithaca of the here and now. The old Ithaca had more charm and warmth . In my mind's eye, the places of childhood were larger, cleaner, farther from each other and incredibly unique. The house that dad built had a huge front lawn and a driveway that extended beyond normal ranges in it's length and curve appeal.

How can a new owner have changed something my dad built? Where is the beautiful Birch tree in the front yard? or the bay window he took so much pride in? or the field of goldenrod that bordered the side yard? How is it there are trees growing that are older than my children? and the redwood panel on the front gables is completely GONE?

Passing this homestead and moving on to drive by the one in which I had 2 of my 7 children was another shocker. First time by, we actually missed it! I had to go , get out at the beginning of the road,(we took a picture for posterity , of course!) and then reorient myself, driving slowly up Middaugh Road. Where was my pink ranch house??

 No way was that the right house! and yet, the number clearly indicated it was.

Groans from within erupted as Margie exclaimed, "it is so tiny!!!!". Of course I agreed, but at the time, it felt very spacious and lovely.



 Where are the pictures in my head? Do they even match the pictures in the mind of a 4 year old little girl who has them cemented as the Truth of early living? Well, if not, which is the true home? This ramshackle , picket fenced version, my sentimental, cozy HOME, or Margie's children's edition? Then there must be what Paul and Becca remember also, perhaps even different memories yet!

 Well, so much for the homes, but what about the woods? They couldn't have changed much, could they?

 

Surprise, surprise! My mind had recall of these roads being long, treacherous, scary and
dangerous to traverse alone on. I remember going with my dad on weekends to collect patio rocks from this very deep gorge area, often being afraid we would fall and nobody would know where we were.

Reality check:  Shindagin Hollow (Preserve? Forest?) is now one of the premier destination Mountain Biking locations on the East Coast, as evidenced by Margie's husband locating it on his GPS more quickly and accurately than from my memory.  He had discovered this trail on a trail guide map for he and the boys to bike while we wandered around by car. It was less than a mile up the road from my uncle's Homestead. As an aside, his house shrank too. :-)

What am I thinking now that most of my childhood, adult memories are all irrelevant and mistaken? Maybe they were just altered slightly from the real world by emotional impact or age or circumstances of life. No matter how or why, the Mind had a different story that the Reality. I have been thinking and thinking about this since my return and it has left me very aware of an application.

My application is for those parents (such as me, who is currently alone like a deer in the forest) who have adult children often bombarding us at one time or another with 'facts' about their childhood. This includes our parenting, our disciplining, their memories of our parenting, their joint comments about growing up....those of us with several children often even have a group effort at convincing us of some truth they recall vividly.

Well, well, if my mind can alter the facts of locations, homes, and entire roads so completely that I can drive completely by a place I lived for over 10 years....I am much more comfortable with those tales of woe, misdeeds  and oversights that my kids occasionally converse about. It used to make me feel so sad that I had such a lousy memory and was apparently such a poor parent. Now I am going to just smile, knowing that some day their own kids will visit homesteads and discover memory mismatching truths of their own. I'll be on Grand-Parenting:The Next Generation, waiting for them to catch up :-) .

If you are still reading , let me add one more thing, please.

We have recently studied the book of Ecclesiastes in church. There is a little verse in the middle of this interesting book of Scripture that says: "Do not say,, why were the former days better than these? For you do not inquire wisely concerning this." (7:10)

I fear that as we age it is all too easy to reminisce and remember fondly past times and experiences as if they were golden opportunities lost. There is  another verse later on in this book : "Remember your Creator in the days of your youth, before the difficult days come."

We are wise to heed this warning as we chat with our grandchildren, for our children have grown and are formulating their own parenting styles and making memories. Our legacy of grandchildren if we are so blessed, is to encourage these little people to Know their Creator God now. Times will become difficult ahead and the economy is the least of the reasons why this is so.

Opening the Presents

Listening to a song that I had forgotten the words to. Simply Trusting... "oh for grace to trust in Jesus , just to take Him at His Word, just to trust upon His promise,  just to know 'Thus says the Lord.'

Oh what a song! I am sitting alone in a random apartment, in a random city, just trusting in God's promise, knowing that what He says is what is happening. Am I a simpleton? Who goes to El Paso , Texas in the summer with a carry-on bag and a one way ticket on a fear laden flight , crying and begging Jesus for mercy and grace? 

My story is always being written and oftentimes I have so much going on there is no time to unwrap my thoughts and feelings, emotions and ideas, and sort out the junk from the salvageable .

I am the kind of gal that loves to take her pile of gifts at Christmas or birthday and open each one slowly and carefully, saving the wrapping paper and folding it carefully for another package, and then think about that present. Why did someone give me this particular gift? What does it mean that they spent so much time and money and effort thinking of me , especially? Have I properly appreciated their relationship or am I too casual or too hurried in my friendship? I love the gift giving tradition just for the symbolism it represents: you are special to me , and here is the present to show it. 

 For instance, I received a birthday card from a sister last week, and inside was tucked a sum of cash. I not only saw the cash as a God -sent , perfectly- timed , as I was boarding -the -airplane present, but also understood that in the giving of it, my sister knew me well, knew that what I needed was cold hard cash, and that giving of it was a present worth more than the value of the dollar.

I am receiving gifts from my God this week that show me how much He loves me and my family. He has given me gifts that make my heart flutter with delight, and warm me when I shudder late at night lying alone with my fearful thoughts.

The gift of presence~ His and mine and for a young girl named Meg. These gifts I have unwrapped today in my heart and mind, and am using as confirmation of what I know to be true of my relationship with Him.

He, the God of the universe,  my best friend, is ever present with me. I am theologically well trained in the Omnipresence of God, His Sovereignty, His Majesty, His Omniscience, His Goodness, His Blessed Gospel,  His Love eternal. Oh, but this week, I am personally experienced in His presence day by day, minute by minute, as my sweet baby grandson struggled to take little baby breaths, one at a time, second by second. I have been certain that not only was God breathing with him in his little bed, but with me as I could not be near him, with his other grandma so many miles away. He was with my other sweet [eleven!] grandchildren living and playing in Pennsylvania, Delaware and South Carolina. He was present with every single hurting , terrified friend and family member of dear  Rachel and Aric. Omnipresent, present everywhere, bringing comfort and kindness and grace enabling us for waiting, praying and breathing ourselves, day by day.


The gift of my presence here has been given to me. I have never been so thankful for something I despise so intensely as the airplanes that brought me hundreds of miles in very few hours. I hate flying, not 'don't like it' as one hears in every sector -  I hate it.  There is not one single thing I trust about that silver cylinder that reminds me of a gas can sitting sideways in the sky. I don't even know the name of the men sitting in the cockpit and controlling my destiny as I squish myself into a seat that I couldn't get out of quickly if there ever was a need to use the Emergency Exits strategically placed at 2 locations on the airplane. Good grief, I'd die just trying to unlock that crazy seat belt that does NOT unclip as easily as that other nameless person tells us with a smile!

Well, I got off track there, didn't I? Besides reading my run-on sentences, did you understand how thankful I am that God used my Biggest Fear to accomplish and meet my Biggest Need? Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me...is NOT just words n a familiar song. It is my heart cry today as I sit here with the beautiful, tangible, wonderful gift of waiting for Rachel and Aric to come home for dinner from seeing their son, Theodore. He's that baby that is breathing nicely on his own, lying in his mother's arms right now as she adjusts her schedule to his new feeding schedule.

The presence of Rachel's friend Meg is my third gift received thankfully this week. One can never assume that life is just happenstance (hey that is a word!) when one believes in a Living , Loving, Lovely God. Meg lives far away on the East Coast and came for a perfectly timed visit to see her buddy Rach as she awaited the birth of her firstborn, who turns out to be firstborn son. During L & D our friend texted at appropriate times, reminding me that modern technology isn't completely dooming the universe.....yet.  She also became my lifeline to calm as we talked and cried and prayed for our common cause of anguish: Teddy, his mom and his dad.  The gift of the person perfect for the situation is incredibly a God ordained and scheduled happening.  In order for you to understand what I am referring to, allow me to share something from my life of sad Sue stories , when a horribly wrong person was near me during a crisis.

Perhaps my personal experiences crowd my Blog, but hey, that's why it's MY Blog. :-)  Let me recount another chapter in Sue's Book of Trivia and Trials.

 I had just miscarried a child after my firstborn son, and was needing an hospitalization for a minor procedure. Hurt, crying and confused in my youthful parenting days, I was wheeled into a room in the hospital where a young couple sat silently. Obviously we would be waiting together in this room of sadness.  I introduced myself with my usual ridiculously open and friendly manner. I will never forget the words that came from that young girl's mouth. "Well we don't really like kids, and certainly don't want any, so I am here to get my tubes tied."
  Still Speechless.

Meg , thankfully, will from hence forth be my personal example of perfect person to be with you during crises.  She and I shared much in those L*O*N*G hours of waiting, most of which is classified and under the heading of my chapter entitled, She's my best friend for a minute.  Common love and concern bound us tighter than a tick on a dog, as they say in these here parts :-)

There you have it, just a sampling of the gifts I am receiving this birthday.  This birthday, June 22, 2012, happened to be that of Teddy, my 12th grandchild, my 7th grandson, and my first New Mexican grandbaby .

I have a few more that are coming to mind, but for today, I have opened enough from my pile of gifts , and I need some tacos.
It is Juaraz, Mexico across the highway, after all!

 Guess WHO is there too??

My Story, Their story, HIS story

Isn't this just a beautiful place to spend the summer month of June? Palm trees, bright sunshine, blue skies and warm days with no work and nothing to do. Seems ideal.

Well, here's the thing. Life is not always as it appears on the outside. It could be better demonstrated by showing you another picture I took this week-just days before the one I took yesterday, when life seemed so delightful and carefree.

The mountain I drove by , on my original summer road trip, was being Blasted apart, this massive, hard, seemingly indestructible pile of rocks, minimized and made manageable by a force stronger than bedrock. Dynamite. There were temporary signs of destruction and explosions everywhere.

I am in a hotel room, waiting for daylight to break, so that I can wait my turn and go look at my 12th grandchild from underneath a gown and without being able to touch his sweet little body. He is in crisis. But that is not my story~that is his parent's story and his story.

 As much as I want to share with my praying friends and family all the little details of his birth, as I am visiting the Southwest in conditions less appealing than MY original plan anticipated, I will not. I will tell you about the second picture's application as I wait upon the Lord. Again I wait.

God often uses dynamite in our lives to break the hardened hearts we are carrying around , just beneath  the surface. 

Oh, people love pretending there is nothing to fear, no life experience we cannot handle. After all, technology gives us internet access to every possible medical update or procedure you can imagine-just Google it. People know people and there is always a Networking system ready to kick into action at the slightest mention of trouble`just Facebook it. Hey, I can tweet and have a kazillion folks ready to come to my rescue with solutions to my problems. Maybe I will text just a select few close, trusted friends and see if they can rescue me from this mess I find myself in?

Underneath it, whatever IT is, lies a very large God -avoiding, eternity-ignoring MOUNTAIN. Hard, tough unwilling to admit that certain things are beyond our control, we are solid rock and nobody is going to blast our belief that I CAN HANDLE IT.

Enter God.

He has a deep, deep love for us and He continues to gently give us so many good , lovely gifts. We have flowers , trees, bumblebees and butterflies. We have air to breathe, clothes to wear, shoes to adorn our feet and trips to take. We blink and swallow and think and hug. We love and laugh, joke and party. How about our boats , trailers, motorcycles, ski mobiles and climbing ropes? Should I mention the sunshine, rainbows, raindrops, balmy breezes and autumn leaf changing season? We all have a mother, and a father. Usually there has been given an abundance of family members to fight and share and reunion with.

The mighty God of the universe gives us so many little, tiny, huge, magnificent good gifts and never demands anything in return from us, except, perhaps, a simple acknowledgement that He is God and we are not.

Enter Dynamite.

The year was 1984 , I was a young parent and my husband and I had 4 beautiful children and a baby, Danny was not 'normal' medically and perhaps not 'normal' developmentally, but who can know what 'normal' is?  Child number 2 , my sweet Becca Sue, was turning 6 and she was such a beautiful and happy little girl. Many would have forgotten by now of her beginnings in the Intensive Care Unit, 9 days of machines and beeping sounds that erupt in your sleep once you've heard them long enough. I had not forgotten, and  thanked God regularly for her life.

Danny lived 9 months, and when he died, on February 1st,  I felt the Blast of dynamite rocking my world once again and unlike our happy story when Becca was healed, God was writing another chapter of my story, a gently sad one , becoming a reminder of God's control of life and death issues.

It is a story that I had buried fairly deeply down inside my heart, and carefully built the rock walls around. I hated that chapter, not so much for the death of my son, which was horrific at the happening, but more for the fact that I had to face head on that what I want does NOT happen every time, and I DO NOT understand it. Sometimes I disagree with it. Often I argue about it , ranting at God  in my rage and fury, until He has me pass by a flower He made.

Then I remember again, oh, God, you are Creator God, I am not.

Enter Theodore. MY 12th grandson, who is very, very sick.

I do not know how his story will end . I am crying as I type these words and as you have read, my thoughts and heart are jumbled and a mess. God allowed me to keep Rebecca, He allowed me to give up Daniel.  He gave me Paul , Margie, Julie, Joshua, Andrew and Rachel, the mother of Teddy. He has kept me as I have lived through divorce and the destruction of my marriage and life as I knew it. God
has allowed me the joy and love of grandchildren Eliot, Simon, Jesse,Nora, Ava, Isabel, Ethan Bianca, Aidan, Evelyn , Luke and Theodore.

Enter HOPE.

See those troubled, stormy skies? Did you look on the far right and see that rainbow?
The truth is, there just might be a sunny sky hidden ahead , and what I am most learning through these storms is still a very simple Truth.

God is God and I am not.

Now, my perspective is from the Scripture I read as my daughter labored for her son: Psalm 139.
Read it and see if it helps when you face Life and Death issues, it has helped me.

Beach Days

Digging Holes
For ocean waves to fill

Umbrellas go up
For the wind to blow down

Suncreen rubbed on
For the sun rays to melt off


Shovels and Pails packed
For the sand to carry

Gulls circling above
For the food scraps to atack

Wandering beach walks
For seashells to discover

Surfboards and boogie boards
For grandsons to ride

Grandchildren swimming
For Grammy to be blessed.

Favorite May Photos