R. R. 2, Brandon, Wisconsin 53919
Doesn’t it feel good to be fresh out of the bathtub, your
hair washed, and all set for Sunday? Of course, it is a bit odd to
be doing this at 2:30 to 3:00 A.M. Sometimes the older you get the
whackier you get, and I don’t even live alone.
May I assure you I don’t often regress to such behavior, but
there are times when you just can’t sleep, and I prefer doing
something, anything, rather than just lying there getting more and
more morbid. The winter has been long and cold, and in the deep of
night there is a tendency to bring up too many things in our minds.
I once wrote a poem entitled JOY COMES IN THE MORNING. I wonder if
I can find it.
JOY COMES IN THE MORNING
Within this acred quietness has grown
The blades of unify, forever known
To God, but often spurned by foolish men.
How can divisiueness be pondered here?
The soul, in clearest intent seeks its own
Supernal offering, A Heart of Praise.
We raise soiled hands,
A whisper can be heard,
‘Oh Lord, sent healing through the musicked bird.’
He has no tear to wipe because of sin,
He radiates with praise as days begin
But we- Oh Refuge All Eternal
Enter in
Just as we are accept these wayward men and make
Our paths the Upward Way
for Jesus sake.
It is amazing what a new outlook a few rays of morning sunshine
can have upon winter-weary creatures. And above all an assurance
that ‘God is still in His HeavenAll’s right with the
world.’ I can’t think just now who wrote those words, but I
wonder had he lived right now would he have been so sure
‘all’s right with the world?’ I did, however, find the
poem I mentioned. Sometimes my file system works amazingly well,
believe it or not.
For twelve days this winter we had no time to think about much
of anything. Our twelfth grandchild, a boy, arrived on January 17.
This makes the tally 6 boys, 6 girls.
Early the next morning we drove to Sturtevant which is almost
100 miles, to care for Chris (past three and a half) and Gwenn
(lacking a year by three weeks). We quickly dug our mothering and
fathering experience out of dry dock and were in business. The
children took to us quite well, but, of course, they missed their
mother. Gwenn crawled around the house with a pitiful little
‘Whooooo’ emitting from her sweet mouth. She sounded like a
grieving owlet when its mama had left the nest. We would get her
playing happily (we thought) and then would come this sad little
sound again from some far corner of the room.
The weather behaved quite well for seven days, and we had Mama
back home. As Wednesday night brought a storm it also brought
hemorrhaging to our daughter. We had to call the Rescue Squad. Back
to the hospital. It was a scary night. Her husband, Tom, went with
her and Grandma began boiling bottles. There was, blessedly,
prepared formula in cans. Now there were three to care for. Daddy
was snowed in at the hospital, and didn’t show up until Friday
night.
On Saturday our older daughter, Ginni, flew into Milwaukee from
Kansas City. Grandma went to bed for thirteen hours that night. All
of Virginia’s abundant vigor tackled a pile of washing, etc.
She glories in new babies.
Now for a laugh for you….In one irate moment 3 year old Chris,
after being reprimanded and taken to bed by her Grandpa, was
sobbing her heart out, but still said defiantly, ‘I wish you
two would go home to your own house. You are terrible
babysitters.’ A little too tired and irksome myself, I replied,
‘Well, I’m sorry about that, but I guess you are stuck with
us.’ After a few more sobs she replied sagely, ‘You can go
now Grandma. I can handle it.’ But I didn’t leave until she
calmed down. After she woke up she apologized. There were no more
tears.
We came home on Monday to our ‘own house’ and all is
well. Mary was back home and Ginni was to stay a week. Poor Gwenn
thought she had two mamas now and some gray-haired creature she
loved too. The poor child was really confused. She had taken Aunt
Ginni for her Mama on her arrival. Now she had three, plus a doting
Grandpa.
Two days later (February 1) we celebrated our 45th wedding
anniversary by just being very thankful we were back in ‘our
own house’ and that our new mother was all right. Our six
children joined forces and gave us two lovely reclining lawn
chairs. So now we have a nice prospect for summer resting.
Let us remind our western friends that we have not forgotten our
visits with you, but for reason or another, our new issues of the
Album have not arrived and I had forgotten where I left off. So
long until next time.
