Treasures of time . . .

Treasures of time . . .

There is an appointed time for everything.
And there is a time for every event under heaven - - -
(Ecclesiastes 3: 1)

Totes were everywhere, all around us! Ted and I had decided to find our fall decorations. Our basement is a pretty good size, but we are only using part of it at the moment. We have so many boxes and totes lined up - almost to the ceiling - in one small area of the basement. So to go through them, we have to start moving them all around. And that means - putting them everywhere around us!

As we opened up each tote, I have to admit that it was kind of fun to see what was inside each one. There had been one that I had packed extra dishes in, and we found some mugs that were just right for fall! In another one, I had put extra frames that my dad had given to me. We took them out and stacked them where I could get at them, just waiting for the pictures I love to take! And then Ted handed me a pretty tin that he had found in one of the boxes. I looked at it, trying to remember if I had ever seen it before. As I opened it, I saw pictures; a small woman’s handkerchief; and even a bride’s garter belt! Picking up each piece, I found myself so surprised to realize that some of these things were from my mom and dad’s wedding! There was an envelope in the tin that said “for the bride”, and inside was one of the invitations to my mom’s wedding. The little white handkerchief was just the right size for a bride to carry with her! As I carefully held the garter belt, I was so surprised to find a small pocket hidden inside of it. There was a small snap holding it closed, and when I pulled it open, I couldn’t believe I found a bright, shiny penny inside. The penny was still in perfect condition, with the date of “1933”. In my head, I came up with all sorts of stories of the importance of that penny. I wondered if it had been kept from my mom’s Dedication as a little baby, after all, my mom had been born in late December, 1932. As I put the penny carefully back in it’s pocket, I looked through a few more items in the tin. Carefully, I put each one back inside, wondering about so many stories that went with each one. Just before I closed the lid, I took a couple of the pictures out, just wanting to keep them with me. Handing the tin back to Ted, I couldn’t help but feel like we had found a treasure chest - full of wonderful stories of love - and lives - from so long ago . . .

And there is a time for every event under heaven -
A time to give birth, and a time to die;
A time to plant, and a time to uproot what is planted.
(Ecclesiastes 3: 1 & 2)

Pictures & Moments - Treasures of times gone by . . . I have pictures all around me, and inside of me, of times that have long since past away. As I brought the pictures from the tin up to my desk, I set them around my computer. There was a picture of my mom as a young nurse, surrounded by her co-workers and friends. In the picture my mom is smiling so brightly, the prettiest nurse in the picture! She has a corsage pinned to her uniform, her white nurse’s hat pinned to her head. The picture had been taken in the foyer of the large entrance way to “The Manor” - the first “Webster Manor Home” where my mom had worked. As I looked at the picture, I realized that all these ladies had been taking care of patients who were - just like my mom is now. The house where the picture was taken, no longer exists. Instead, there are 2 nursing homes that were built on that same property. But a beautiful little park and two gazebo’s stand on the exact place where that foyer used to be. Looking at my mom in the picture, she was so beautiful, happy and vibrant - helping people who went ahead of her - - - struggling with the same disease she would finally be diagnosed with . . .

A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn, and a time to dance.
(Ecclesiastes 3: 4)

As I pick up another picture, I see my Grandma Hohler standing next to her two little ones. Those two are my dad, and his sister Betty. In the picture, there is a silhouette of my Grandpa - who was taking the picture. As I look at the picture, memories of the days and weeks before my dad’s death seem to come back into my head. My brothers, my aunts, and I spent so much time together with my dad and my mom during those weeks. My dad was slowly succumbing to the cancer that was all throughout his body. But his mind seemed so sharp and clear, and so - as we visited - he would tell us stories of his past. We talked about his time in the army, and he told us how his group of friends would head out on Friday night for the edge of town where they were stationed. He was part of a group of photographers who were sent to capture the pictures and moments of history, during the Korean War. He and his buddies were a lot alike, they didn’t seem to like to drink and party - instead - they headed to the “tent revival” that was on the outskirts of town. As he told us the stories, I have to admit - I was a bit surprised. I didn’t know that my dad had gone to revivals, or even knew about the type of church services - where I had found the Lord at!

As the days slipped by, my aunts would tell stories of my dad to my brothers and me. My dad had slipped into a coma, but he seemed to be talking about his childhood, and we heard bits and pieces of his life during that time. One of the stories my aunts told, was about the two little ones in the picture - my dad and my Auntie Betty. They were the oldest, and seemed the most outgoing of the group of kids that would follow. My grandparents had 4 girls and one boy - my dad. But “Bobby & Betty” as my aunties would say - got into the most trouble. They loved to pretend, and would set up “stores” in the back yard of their apartment building. There, along the fence, they would pretend to sell whatever they could get their hands on. Sometimes, that would be the toys that they all played with. But sometimes, they would pretend to sell fish, just like the fishman down the street from them. They would get out the newspaper, and wrap up the fish inside of it - just like he did. The only problem was, the fish inside - just happened to be the goldfish from inside their house! As my aunts told us the story, we all laughed, looking over at my dad, who already seemed so far away! The tears of laughter, suddenly seemed to mix - with our tears of sadness . . .

And there is a time for every event under heaven -
A time to give birth, and a time to die; . . .

As the days meshed into one another, and time seemed to be slipping away for my dad, I remember talking on the phone with my cousin Cheryl. We talked about her mom, my Auntie Betty, who had passed away quite a number of years earlier. At that moment, we knew that “Bobby & Betty” would soon be together - - - again . . .

A time to mourn, and a time to dance . . .

Pictures & Moments - Treasures of time . . . I guess as I think about that time spent with my family, I can feel my heart still hurting inside of me. But there is also another feeling, one of gratitude and thanksgiving - for the stories and pictures that will stay with me forever. My dad’s life lives on - in those memories . . .

For His anger is but for a moment, His favor is for a lifetime; Weeping may last for the night, But a shout of joy comes in the morning.
(Psalm 30: 5)

I love pictures. I love to take them. I love looking at the family I have all around me, and I love remembering times that we shared together. But I also love to look at the pictures that my parents and grandparents have left behind. They tell stories of “who” each of them were. They tell the story of a moment in time - a moment of celebration, or even a moment of just living their lives.

I have a picture of my “Nana” (my mom’s mother). She is a young woman in the picture, standing with her best friend “Tootie”. The picture was taken in the 1920’s, and my grandmother and her friend were dressed in the styles of that time. They have on long dresses, with long winter coats and scarves. They have hats that look like bowls on their heads, with big bows on the sides of them. As I look at the picture of the two of them, I can see a bit of my mom’s face in my Nana. For me, my Nana was always white haired with glasses, and looked nothing like my mother. But as I look into the face of the young woman who became my grandmother, I see her so different.

When I was 14, I spent the summer with my grandmother. My grandfather had just passed away, and my mom wanted me to stay and be company for my grandmother. At the time, I have to admit I really didn’t want to stay! I had friends at home, and a little job at the library - making “real” money. But my vote didn’t count - and so I moved to the cape. There, I was given the room upstairs - across from the attic. At the time, I really didn’t think much about it. But it was to that room that I would take my new Neil Diamond record that she bought me. My grandmother showed me my grandfathers big record player, and told me I could use it. I would play that record over and over again, and as loud as I wanted to! Not once did my Nana yell at me, or tell me to be quiet. Instead, she showed me the desk that had been my grandfathers. She told me I could use it as well, and it was there that I wrote letters to my friends, telling them how much I missed them. I can still remember sitting at that desk, pulling out all the little drawers, holding pencils and erasers, and all sorts of treasures that I knew my grandfather had once held. As the days went by, little by little, I started to spend more time with my grandmother. She would listen as I talked to her about being a 14 year old, and feeling ugly. She shared stories of being young, and feeling the same way. Over the weeks and months that followed, I learned so much about my grandmother. She told me stories of spending time with her friends and her cousins. She shared about falling in love and eloping with my grandfather. I guess I started to learn about the young woman who was in that picture.

During that summer that I lived with my grandmother, I learned about faith, about heartache, and about life. My grandmother shared herself with me. She let me be myself as well. She gave me space to be a teenager - and she gave me a place to learn about so much more. When I moved there, I was so angry! It took a little time, but soon I found myself loving being with my grandmother. At 14, I didn’t know a lot about boys, or falling in love. But as I watched my grandmother quietly grieve the loss of her husband, I learned so much about true love, and trusting in God. There were moments when I would catch my grandmother talking to my grandpa. She would talk to him lovingly, telling him that she would see him again, someday. I guess it was then that I started to think about faith, and a God that will take care of us.

Weeping may last for the night, But a shout of joy comes in the morning . . .

Pictures & Moments - Treasures to me . . . I look at the pictures before me, realizing that the moments they have captured - mean so much to me. They represent a time in the lives of those I love, a time when they were full of life . . .

The other day, I went to visit my mom. She was sitting in her usual comfy chair, concentrating on the work before her. She had scissors in her hand, and the wastebasket in front of her. She had long strips of newspapers next to her, which she carefully cut into small, little pieces. This is a job she repeats every day. I have stopped questioning it, as it seems like a job her mind has given her to do.

As I walked in the door, mom looked up and smiled. “You’re here!” she said. “Come sit down” and she motions toward a chair nearby. “Hey mom, want to go for a walk?“ I asked. “Sure, just let me pick this up” she says. She quickly puts her things away, and before I know it, she is giving me a big hug. “I am so glad you are here!” she says. “Me too” I said.

That day, I took my mom outside for a walk. She was dressed a bit odd, pajama bottoms on, and a red sox t-shirt. We found her jacket, and outside we went. As I took her hand, we headed up the hill toward the back of the nursing home. The skies were full of clouds, with a little sunshine peeking out. As we walked, mom asked how everyone was, and I told her all about the kids and grandkids. I guess I would say I did most of the talking, but mom listened and asked questions. As we finished our walk, we headed over to the little park and the gazebo. Sitting down on one of the benches, my mom told me how glad she was to get outside and walk. We sat looking at the clouds as they moved. And then for some reason, I asked my mom if she remembered when she worked at the hospital in Worcester. “Of course” she said. And then I mentioned when my baby brother Wayne had been in the hospital. “Oh, it was so hard” she said, “he cried and cried” she continued. At that moment, I knew my mom had remembered! She looked at me with eyes that seemed to remember back to when she was a nurse - back to working in “The Manor” that used to stand right where we were sitting! But just as quickly as I saw that moment - - - my mom was asking when lunch would be. “We should probably head there now” I told her. And taking my mom’s hand, we headed back into the home . . .

There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven -
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn, and a time to dance.
A time to love . . .

Pictures & Moments - Treasures to me - - - Three pictures sit in front of me - my mom, my dad, and my Nana. In each picture, I see a moment in time - captured to remember. My Nana and my dad, have both passed away. My mom has a disease that takes her further and further away from all of us. And yet, in just an instant, I can close my eyes and remember a story, a picture in time.

For each of us, there will come a time when we leave this earth. When we do, we leave behind bits and pieces of ourselves in the hearts and lives of those we have loved. Their memories, the stories and pictures of us, will help us to continue to live on - in the lives we have touched here on earth.

A time to laugh . . . A time to dance . . . A time to love . . .

The other evening I was getting a snack for Ted and myself. We like to have sherbet before bed. I scooped out the sherbet in two little bowls, giving Ted a little extra. Then I put the gallon away, taking the scoop over to the sink. Just before I put it in the sink, I licked the extra from the end of the scoop. As I did, the taste seemed to take me back into another time and another place . . .

I was a little girl, eating ice cream with my mom and dad, and my brothers. We had taken a late afternoon drive up to a place called “Dresser Hill”. It was a dairy farm that also had an ice cream stand on it. The farm was way up on a hill, overlooking beautiful pastures and country side. My dad had taken us all for a drive, and that usually meant that we got to pick where we went. And by that, I don’t mean we picked the place we would end up at - I mean we got to pick which way we would turn as we took the winding back roads of the little towns in Massachusetts. As we would come to a stop sign, dad would ask: “left or right?” Robbie and I were usually the loudest, yelling the opposite of the other. Dad would decide who’s turn it was next, and one of us would pick the way he would turn. We would go down winding roads, just taking a drive out in the country. I have to admit, part way through the drive, I would get a little nervous. I was sure we were going to get lost. But we never did! We always seemed to find our way up that hill, and to the ice cream place!

When we got there, mom would always order strawberry. Dad would have coffee ice cream, while Robbie and Wayne would try all sorts of different flavors (although I think Robbie liked coffee too!). But as for me, it was always orange sherbet - and I always loved it . . .

A time to mourn, and a time to dance.
A time to love . . .

Just as quickly as the memory washed over me, it also seemed to fade away. The warmth and happiness from the moment though, seemed to stay with me through the evening. For some reason, I didn’t share the memory with Ted. It just seemed as if that memory was a gift - and I let it melt into the love and joy I felt with my husband. As I fell asleep in my husband’s arms that night, I tucked the memory away - feeling the joy of being loved in my life . . .

The voice of joy and the voice of gladness, the voice of the bridegroom and the voice of the bride, the voice of those who say, “Give thanks to the Lord of hosts, For the Lord is good, For His lovingkindness is everlasting”
(Jeremiah 33:11)

As you walk this road we call life, there will always be moments of saying “goodbye”. But Love never really dies. It lives on in our hearts and souls, and walks with us into the unknown. Hold tight to the hand of God, and know that He is the one who brings love into our lives - and keeps it in our souls - - - forever . . .

God bless you and keep you, until we meet back here again!

In His Love,

Debbie & Ted Ayers