From beginning to end

September 29, 2016 / Patsy Kuipers / 1 Comment

Sunday before last, I had the privilege of attending two special services. That morning I watched as my 7-month old granddaughter, Emma, was baptized. Four generations were present as her parents vowed to bring her up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.[1] As the congregation promised to come alongside Mary and Justin as they raise Emma, I prayed she won’t be able to remember a day when she doesn’t know God loves her. I made a similar supplication when my daughters and other grandchildren were baptized, for there is no greater assurance than knowing you’re a child of the King.[2]

Later that day, I attended the memorial service for the mother of my dear friend, Susan Hunt. Mrs. Mac, as most affectionately referred to her, was 99 years old when she was called Home. She was ready. Her health had been declining for some time and, knowing the end of her earthly life was drawing near, she had been planning her funeral. Susan related that at times it felt like they were planning a party, as she and her daughters helped Mrs. Mac select hymns and scripture passages for the service. There was certainly a celebration that afternoon, of a life well-lived by a godly woman whose death was precious in the sight of her Lord.[3]

Our pastor, who shared 1 Corinthians 15:50-58[4] with Mrs. Mac just minutes before she passed away, spoke on the Apostle Paul’s declaration in Philippians, “For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain.”[5] Indeed, for believers, death is the gateway to eternal life in the presence of God. Yet even at Emma’s tender age, as she gets bumps and bruises from toppling over while learning to crawl, this life presents challenges. Jesus didn’t downplay the difficulties and hardships we’d face. He told his disciples to expect them, but added the promise He’d overcome the world. [6] And while we’re here, we’re called to do all to his glory[7], keeping our eyes firmly fixed on him, not our circumstances.

Pastor Todd Allen had the closing prayer, a sermonette in its own right, at Mrs. Mac’s service. Now 92, he proclaimed the same truth he declared at Ray’s funeral over 19 years ago. Speaking words of hope and assurance, Pastor Allen reminded us that when the days allotted to us are over, we too will be welcomed Home. What an encouragement to see the consistent faith of this senior saint across the years, a faith and consistency shared by Mrs. Mac and others who’ve gone before us. May we, like them, be able to say with the Apostle Paul when our days here are coming to an end, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.”[8] The One who is with us from beginning to end, the Alpha and the Omega[9], is worthy of all praise, glory and honor. [10]

[1] Ephesians 6:4, King James

[2] 1 John 3:1

[3] Psalm 116:15

[4] This passage includes the proclamation, “Death is swallowed up in victory.”

[5] Philippians 1:21

[6] John 16:33

[7] 1 Corinthians 10:31

[8] 2 Timothy 4:7

[9] Revelation 1:8, Revelation 22:13

[10] Revelation 5:12

Father knows best

September 13, 2016 / Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

Numerous books have been written on the subject I’m about to address. Many of those books were authored by learned theologians. So it’s with a bit of trepidation I climb out on this limb. Yet I do so in hopes of providing some encouragement to fellow pilgrims, non-theologians like myself.

It’s a rare person who hasn’t had a few “Why, God?” experiences in life. From mundane irritations to unspeakable losses, things happen to us and those we love that don’t make sense, at least not from our finite human perspective. Not surprising since the Lord declares his thoughts and ways are higher than ours. [1]

Job, an upright and blameless man who feared God[2], endured multiple calamities and is often referenced as an example of patience under duress. After Job lost his children and his property and he was struck with loathsome sores[3], he refused to curse God and die as his wife recommended.[4] Nonetheless, Job grew weary of his friends’ attempts to console and explain. He started to wonder why God had seemingly removed his favor and he longed for a return to the days when his life was sweet. He recounted his deeds before God, trying to understand why such misery had befallen him. For me, Job’s questioning is what makes him so relatable, so human. Even those of us who’ve walked with the Lord for years have times when we question and wonder and doubt.

God didn’t answer Job with a detailed explanation of his circumstances. Instead he posed questions of his own.[5] God’s queries opened Job’s eyes to the awesome power and wisdom of the One he questioned, leading him to declare, “Behold, I am of small account; what shall I answer you? I lay my hand on my mouth.” [6]

Although God doesn’t owe us an explanation, there are times when He graciously allows us to see some reasons things didn’t work out the way we wanted them to. Several examples from my life:

Some years ago, a position opened up at work. I requested a change, thinking it would be perfect for me and was disappointed when the assignment went to one of my colleagues. It was then I found out the job description had been rewritten, with the role becoming more technical in nature – not perfect after all. The business developed a new role, focused on color and design, which I was better suited for and filled for the remaining 14 years of my career.
When my parents told the seller of the house they chose to buy they were moving to this area to help their widowed daughter, she recounted how the house had been under contract a few months earlier but the deal fell through. Her explanation upon hearing my parents’ story: “God must have been saving this house for you.”
Soon after I finished my internship at a local botanical garden, a part-time staff position opened up. A chance to start a new career path? I applied, but didn’t get the job. Now, with four years’ hindsight, I see numerous reasons it was best I wasn’t chosen for the job.

As you might imagine, losing my husband, Ray, to a fatal heart attack at age 39 has been the most why-provoking event of my life. It doesn’t make sense that a kind, godly husband and father would be taken from his wife and young daughters, but it doesn’t have to. I’ve come to accept it as part of God’s plan for us. The glimpses God’s given me regarding other, less life-changing situations like the examples above provide touchstones of reassurance. I trust he’s working out his good and perfect plan for me even when I don’t understand. That trust has deepened over the years as I’ve come to know God more intimately than I would have had my earthly husband and provider been present.

Who knows? The Lord may be protecting us from unforeseen consequences, refining our character, using our circumstances to encourage others and draw us closer to himself, or any number of other possibilities we cannot even imagine. Regardless, we can remain confident, trusting that Father knows best. After all, he’s the One who promises to work all things together for good for those who love him.[7]

[1] Isaiah 55:8-9

[2] Job 1:1

[3] Job 2:7

[4] Job 2:9

[5] Job, chapters 38-40

[6] Job 40:4

[7] Romans 8:28

The happy garden

August 30, 2016 / Patsy Kuipers / 2 Comments

A friend’s comment that we’ve had 70 days with a high temperature of 90 or above, confirmed what I already suspected: this summer’s been hot even by Hotlanta standards. Add in the humidity characteristic of our area and there have been days when it felt like I’d been engulfed by a damp blanket as soon as I stepped outside.

These less-than-ideal conditions haven’t kept me from my garden though. One recent day as I walked the property checking on plants and critters, my clothes soaked with perspiration from the afternoon’s exertion, I thought, “This is a happy garden.” And so it is. As I’ve alluded to before, there are certainly weeds and unsightly areas I need to attend to, but my Father has tucked all sorts of gifts and surprises onto the 1/3 acre He’s entrusted to me. A few current examples:

The passionflower vine by my mailbox has become a veritable ecosystem unto itself. It supports a burgeoning population of Gulf fritillary caterpillars while the resulting butterflies flit about, bees buzz contentedly, buried in the ornate flowers, and ants scurry tirelessly along the vine.

The heat-loving hibiscus right outside my garage greets me daily with a cheerful display of bright yellow flowers with exquisite red highlights.

The white wood asters, adopted from a friend two years ago, are blooming for the first time. Last year’s buds were nibbled before they had a chance to open, most likely by a passing deer.

The flowers on the black-eyed Susans, a dependable source of color interest in a summer garden, are starting to give way to prominent seed clusters. Attracted to this popular food source, goldfinches will often perch like dainty ornaments atop the seed-laden stalks.

The Tipularia made its typically short-lived appearance. Nevertheless, its display of the tiniest of orchids on fragile stems made it well worth searching for and savoring before it disappeared for another year.

Other illustrations abound, but this brief list is representative of the myriad garden treasures I’m thankful for. They change season to season, many returning year after year like dependable friends.

This morning the sky was a glorious clear blue. There was a gentle breeze to dispel some of the heat and coax a few leaves from their branches. Yet even on the most beautiful day, as I rejoice in the gifts I’ve discovered, I know they’re merely a glimpse of what awaits when all things are made new. My finite mind can’t comprehend the splendor in store, but my heart rejoices in the assurance God will dwell among his people forevermore, our eternal source of light and life.[1] Until then, may we take time to notice and appreciate the reminders of his love all around us. And let us say with the Apostle John, “Come, Lord Jesus!”[2]

[1] Revelation 22:5

[2] Revelation 22:20b

For better or worse

August 9, 2016 / Patsy Kuipers / 2 Comments

Thirty-three years ago on August 5, 1983, Ray and I became man and wife. The ceremony, held in an un-air-conditioned sanctuary in conditions that make the word sweltering come to mind, was the culmination of months of planning and anticipation. Wedding photo for blog Family and friends, many of whom still refer to our wedding as the hottest they’ve ever attended, looked on as we said our vows and pledged ourselves to each other no matter what came our way. We were young and optimistic. Although we had a number of pre-marital counseling sessions with two different pastors, like most newlyweds we went into our marriage expecting more better than worse, more health than sickness. And the idea of death parting us? Well, that possibility seemed decades in the future.

I’m somewhat chagrined to admit reality hit soon after we returned from our honeymoon. I’m an only child and an introvert by nature. I was used to having time and space to myself. Suddenly I had another person to cope with ALL THE TIME. Granted, I loved Ray very much, but part of me kept waiting for him to go home. That thought of course was quickly followed by, “Wait! He is home!” And so it went. The early months were difficult as we learned to live together and accommodate each other’s needs and idiosyncrasies.

Before our 1-year anniversary we managed to buy our first home, a townhouse. Several months after our third anniversary we welcomed a baby girl, Mary. A second daughter, Jessie, joined our family a few days after our sixth anniversary. In 1991 the company I worked for decided to transfer their carpet group to Georgia. Ray was fully supportive of the move. We put down roots and settled into our “raise the kids” house the following year.

Bit by bit we became partners, working together on our shared goals, trusting God to guide us . . . and then the unthinkable happened. On April 19, 1997, a mere thirteen years after our marriage began, death parted us. Some weeks after Ray’s passing, I contacted Focus on the Family to request materials on grieving and widowhood. The woman who answered my call was so kind. I explained what had happened and told her I felt like a part of me was missing. I’ll never forget her reply: “Over the years you were married you and your husband became one and part of you is missing.” God had undeniably knit Ray and I together as we sought to honor Him by loving and serving each other and raising the children He blessed us with.

Indeed, those early notions of, “Isn’t it time for him to go home?”, were replaced by fervent prayers that God would watch over Ray. Journal entries documented my concerns. In one such entry I wrote, “Please keep Ray in good health . . . Sometimes I worry about him because of his dad’s early death. I don’t know what I would do without him, Lord.”

Almost 20 years have come and gone since Ray went Home and I’ve come to realize my implied question (“What will I do?”) would have been better stated, “What will you do, Lord?” After losing my husband, I clung to the One who promised to be with us always, through times of great joy and heart-wrenching sorrow, for better or worse. I’ve found Him to be faithful and his grace to be sufficient. Furthermore, death will not part us. Instead, it will be my passage Home.

They’re back!

July 24, 2016July 24, 2016 / Patsy Kuipers / 4 Comments

Two years ago I planted a passionflower vine by my mailbox. I’d seen one growing profusely at the garden where I volunteer. Not only are the flowers intricately beautiful, but Passiflora is the only host genus for the Gulf Fritillary butterfly’s caterpillars. (See “Very Hungry Caterpillars”, September 2014 for more info.)

That first season I only got to enjoy two or three flowers before the ravenous caterpillars started devouring the plant. Last year the passionflower was well-established and provided numerous blossoms for me to gaze upon as well as nourishment for several waves of my little orange buddies with black spikes.

Now in its third season, the passionflower is flourishing. Ok, so that’s putting it politely. It’s actually starting to take over the entire mailbox bed, including the summer annuals residing there. For several weeks I thought, “No problem! Soon the caterpillars will show up. They’ll have plenty to eat plus I’ll have plenty of flowers.” I examined the vine every morning when I went out to collect the newspaper and every evening when I checked for mail. No caterpillars. Then one day I saw a tiny caterpillar in the clutches of a wasp. What did I do? I turned to Google, of course! “Do wasps eat caterpillars?” Unfortunately, they do.

I kept up my twice-daily vigil, hoping there would eventually be enough caterpillars to satisfy the wasps and still leave some to make it all the way through their life cycle. Days passed with only an occasional sighting. Then I realized there was an army of ants busily traversing the sprawling vines. Back to Google. “Do ants eat caterpillars?” Yes, yes they do. By this time I was feeling rather dismal about the situation since I doubted it would be possible to get rid of the ants without negatively impacting the caterpillars.

My five-year-old grandson, Joshua, encouraged me to find the ant mound and deal with the pesky marauders at their source. I was somewhat surprised he didn’t say, “That’s the way the world works, Grammie”, as he often does when I bemoan the fact some predator has taken down its prey. Being an avid fan of “Wild Kratts”, Joshua is incredibly knowledgeable about a multitude of creatures. He takes the food chain in stride, knowing some animals get eaten by other animals as God provides for all of his creation.

Yet I can’t help but wonder if the way the world’s working isn’t the way it’s supposed to work at all, particularly when it comes to death. Some months ago I was reading the first chapter of Genesis, a passage I’ve read MANY times, when I noticed something. Take a look at verses 29 and 30:Then God said, “I give you every seed-bearing plant on the face of the whole earth and every tree that has fruit with seed in it. They will be yours for food. And to all the beasts of the earth and all the birds in the sky and all the creatures that move along the ground—everything that has the breath of life in it—I give every green plant for food.” (Emphasis mine.) Do you see it too? In the beginning, when God created everything and it was all good, there was no death, not even animals eating each other. Only after the fall did the shedding of blood become commonplace and, at times, necessary. Sadly, that’s the way the world works now, even when it’s man spilling a fellow man’s blood.

But there was One who came to save and restore by shedding his own precious blood. Because He did, we have the assurance that someday all things will be set right again. The world will once more work as its Creator originally intended. Speaking of Jesus’ return, the prophet Isaiah said,

^“Righteousness will be his belt and faithfulness the sash around his waist. The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with the goat, the calf and the lion and the yearling together; and a little child will lead them. The cow will feed with the bear, their young will lie down together, and the lion will eat straw like the ox. The infant will play near the cobra’s den, and the young child will put its hand into the viper’s nest. They will neither harm nor destroy on all my holy mountain, for the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.” [1] (Emphasis mine.)

His promised return is certain. We can wait confidently and expectantly for the day when there will be no more pain or tears, when death will be swallowed up in victory once and for all. And while we wait, God graciously sustains his creation . . .

Several days ago my morning caterpillar search yielded the results I’d been hoping for. A grateful smile spread across my face as I discovered a dozen or so voracious nibblers of various sizes. They’ve been steadily eating and growing ever since and have been joined by more. A small thing in the overall scheme of life to be sure, but a gift nonetheless from the One who knows how much I delight in hosting the Gulf fritillaries and their offspring each year.

[1] Isaiah 11:5-9

Another year

July 3, 2016 / Patsy Kuipers / 7 Comments

My interest in writing dates back to elementary school when I started keeping diaries and chronicling family vacations. I’ve filled numerous journals with my take on life events ever since. After nearly 50 years of writing, I began to contemplate blogging and so, on July 1, 2014, I launched Back 2 the Garden.

Two of my journals. Nothing fancy, but together they chronicle my musings across 24 years of life.

As I stated in my first article, “Count it all joy”, gardening became my passion after my horticulturally-trained husband’s death at the all-too-young age of 39. This passion has produced much fruit as I’ve tended our garden across the past 19 years:

“Not only has God faithfully provided for me and my family since Ray’s death, He has ministered to me over and over again through the beauty of his creation. While playing in the dirt, I’ve been reminded of his promises, seen tangible examples of Scriptural principles and found solace for my soul. This blog is born of a desire to share some of what I’ve learned spiritually and horticulturally.”

My hope when I embarked on this endeavor was to impart spiritual insights as well as practical horticultural information, with the aim of publishing an article once a week. But the demands of life have a way of tempering our goals. I’ve averaged posting an essay about every two weeks, the pages I launched to expand the content of Back 2 the Garden have languished, and almost all of what I’ve written has focused on the spiritual. Nevertheless, my longing to share the joy and hope I find in faith, family, friends and flowers is as strong as when I debuted my first post. My desire to carry on in spite of various and assorted distractions is fueled in no small part by those of you who take time to read what I publish and encourage me to keep writing. Thank you!

Since celebrating the first anniversary of my blogging efforts last July, I’ve lost a dear brother-in-law and gained a precious granddaughter; had to let go of a friendship or two, yet reconnected with a special friend from my past; had surgery; endured a time of not playing in the dirt while I recovered; and, just recently, commenced a major landscaping project which is sure to provide fodder for future reflections on this page. Joy, sorrow, challenges, new dreams – the stuff life is made of. And underneath it all, the everlasting arms of the One who never changes, who knows the end from the beginning and loves us more than we can imagine.

Whether you’re visiting this page for the first time or have been a faithful reader from the beginning, I hope you’ll continue to find many reasons to come back to the garden with me.

A hand to hold

June 21, 2016 / Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

Anyone who’s tried to transfer a slumbering babe-in-arms to its crib knows what a daunting task it can be. Having attempted this move innumerable times, first years ago with my daughters and more recently with three grandchildren, I’ve come to believe babies are born with a sensor which alerts them to the increasing proximity of the miniature mattress. The little person sleeping so soundly and peacefully in your arms can become a crying bundle of flailing arms and legs in a split second.

Such is the case with baby Emma. She starts to fidget as soon as she feels my arms (and herself) move away from my body and works up to a full-on wail by the time I get her into her bed. I quickly cover her with a soft blanket and begin to rub her back and pat her bottom to ease the transition. Inevitably one tiny hand reaches for her mouth and extracts her pacifier. As of now this is a one-way maneuver – she hasn’t quite figured out how to put it back. The result: more fussing. In an attempt to keep her from dislodging her paci, I offer her one of my fingers to hold as she dozes back off.

Barely four months old, Emma has a vise-like grip which leads to another challenge as I try to reclaim my finger and exit her room. Yet a baby’s inborn ability to curl its tiny fingers around a bigger one is a most endearing quality. Siblings Joshua and Lyla will offer Emma one of theirs from time to time and then exalt, “Look! She’s holding my finger. She likes me!”

As our children become mobile, hand holding continues. We extend a hand to steady them as they take their first steps. We ask them to hold our hand as we cross the street or a busy parking lot. Gradually, the practical need to hold hands decreases . . .

But we never outgrow the need to hold hands from an emotional perspective. I’ve said countless times, one of the things I’ve missed most since Ray died was having his hand to hold. From momentous events like puffing my way through labor pains to more mundane activities such as discussing the day’s activities after dinner and strolling around our small property – we held hands. We were partners. He had my back. And then one day his hand was still and it could no longer reach for mine. Instead, it held a single red rose as we laid him to rest.

In the midst of my loneliness and sorrow, there was One who told me not to fear or be dismayed. He promised to strengthen me and help me. He assured me He would hold my hand and never let go. He’s been true to his Word. He always is. And now, in His goodness and mercy, He’s seen fit to provide another hand to reach for mine – a strong yet gentle hand that dwarfs mine in its grasp. Though I don’t know where our strolls will take us, I know the One who holds us in His mighty, everlasting embrace. We can trust Him to have a good and perfect plan . . . always.

Sticks and stones

June 4, 2016 / Patsy Kuipers / 1 Comment

It can be challenging when an activity you’re passionate about is outside. Such is the case with gardening. My plants are exposed to the elements, frequently nibbled on or dug up by passing critters and sometimes plucked or stepped on by curious children, including my own grandchildren. Yet as I tend the small plot of ground the Lord has entrusted to me, I strive to make it beautiful, not only as an offering to Him, but as something lovely for others to gaze upon. Admittedly, my neighbors may question the latter statement since the woodland garden is still very much a work in progress and one of my front beds is being overtaken by the incessant march of Bermuda grass and wild violets. Nonetheless, I have a vision of what it might become . . . someday.

Several days ago a number of woodland plants took an unexpected hit. I wasn’t home at the time so I can’t be certain what transpired. As best I can tell, the tree service working in my neighbor’s yard dropped a very large branch and proceeded to drag it some 20’ back to my neighbor’s property to be disposed of. I’m sure it was an accident and the crew didn’t realize the damage they were doing when they retrieved the branch. But I was saddened to see the carnage: a clump of flattened jack-in-the-pulpit, broken ferns, shredded Black Hills cohosh, trampled mayapples, and a recently-planted trillium which is now nowhere to be found.

My neighbor gave me the name and phone number of his contact person at the tree company. I tallied up my losses and gave him a call, hoping to have a reasonable conversation and possibly receive compensation so I could replace the damaged and missing plants. When he answered, I identified myself and explained the reason for my call. I was totally unprepared for his response. The anger from the other side was palpable as the man demanded to know why I hadn’t called sooner or said something when it happened. When I told him I wasn’t home at the time he essentially called me a liar, stating adamantly he knew I was home because he saw me. That part was true – they had to rearrange some of their trucks so I could get out of my driveway and go to my daughter’s house for the day.

His harsh words felt like heavy blows, pummeling me with their force. I finally ended his tirade when I said, quite calmly, “Never mind. I’ll replace my plants. I’m sorry I bothered you.” And was I ever sorry! I wouldn’t have subjected myself to the vitriol had I known what awaited me. It took me several minutes to stop shaking; much longer for my mind to refrain from replaying his unkind words.

Whoever came up with the ditty, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me”, was seriously deluded. I was reminded, yet again, by the unpleasant phone exchange how critically significant our words are. They can build up and encourage or tear down and destroy. Give life or take it.

As was the case in the contrasting scenarios I described when I first wrote about the importance of being a life giver (See “Give life, remix”, November 2015), the life-giving counterbalance came from my daughter Mary’s household. Less than an hour after extricating myself from the ill-fated phone call, I received a video featuring 2-year old Lyla. With a bit of coaching from her mom, my sweet-natured granddaughter proceeded to tell her great-grandmother they were praying for her, hoped she’d feel better and loved her. As my mom, who was recovering from eye surgery, and I watched and re-watched the message through tear-moistened eyes, we were warmed by the affection it embodied. Even at her tender age, Lyla is an encourager, often enthusiastically telling one family member or the other “Good job!” or happily announcing, “I love being with you guys” as she gazes adoringly at us around the dinner table.

In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul wrote, “Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen. And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with whom you were sealed for the day of redemption. Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” [1]

Let us remember the impact our words and actions can have. And in all things, may we seek to follow the example of the ultimate Giver of Life.

[1] Ephesians 4:29-32

Surprise!

May 17, 2016 / Patsy Kuipers / 1 Comment

Another April 19^th was drawing to a close. Like all the others since my husband Ray’s sudden death in 1997, it had been a day of remembrance, tinged with sorrow and joy. Each year those seemingly contradictory emotions mingle together as I grieve the loss of a godly, gone-too-soon partner and father, yet rejoice in the assurance I’ll see him again.

My adult daughters and I often text in the evenings, checking in with each other, comparing notes on the day’s activities. As bedtime approached the night of the 19th, Jessie texted, “Check out Sports Center. I think I might be on a Kiss Cam clip from the Hawks game.” Mary and I texted back excitedly that we’d be sure to watch. It was close to midnight so I set my DVR and went to bed. When I checked my phone the next morning, the flurry of texting between the sisters had continued as the video quickly went viral on the internet. Jessie, dubbed “Pizza Girl” by her newly-adoring fans, became an overnight sensation with Twitter posts proclaiming her a “national treasure” and “the hero we need now”. Her Facebook page nearly crashed as friends, including many from grade school and college, posted comments and congratulations. By the end of the week, the clip had appeared on The Today Show, had been picked up by countless internet news and entertainment sites, and had received nearly 2 million views on YouTube.

By now you may be thinking something along the lines of, “I don’t need to read a mother’s blog post wherein she brags about her daughter becoming an internet phenomenon.” But please keep reading. You see, Jessie isn’t really the main protagonist . . . her loving Heavenly Father is . . .

Two weeks before the Kiss Cam video appeared, Jessie and I met for lunch at Panera. When we sat down to eat, Jessie happily proclaimed, “I had two free items on my card, Mom. I needed a win today!” Little did we know, that was just a warm up.

God knows how to give good gifts to his children, ones that are tailor-made for them. Furthermore, his timing is perfect. April 19^th will always be a hard day for our family as we mourn our loss and wonder what life might have been like had Ray been with us across all the years he’s been gone. Now, however, there’s a footnote to that day – “Pizza Girl” was introduced to the world and the fun and delight her antics brought to so many will be forever tied to April 19^th.

But wait, there’s more. Jessie’s sense of humor has been evident since her earliest days. Her comedic timing is enviable as she entertains family, friends and community theater audiences. And where did her sense of humor come from? Her dad. I can still see them stretched out together on Saturday mornings, watching cartoons and laughing. Yes, I like to think Ray was chuckling right along with everyone else as Jessie devoured those pizza slices, completely overshadowing the couple smooching in front of her.

From something as small as two free Panera items to things as over-the-top as instant internet fame, we can count on our Father to reach out to us with gifts so personal and well-timed they leave no doubt He knows us intimately. May we have eyes that perceive those gifts, hearts that embrace the Giver and lips that sing his praise as we tell others of his amazing love.

One of the last photos taken of Ray, Mary and Jessie. (3-30-97) Ray’s “putting bunny ears” on Mary, a tradition Jessie continued (with fingers instead of an actual bunny) in many family photos over the years.

Jessie found a cat counterpart to the character she portrayed in a recent theater production.

If you haven’t seen Pizza Girl in action, just Google “Pizza Girl on Kiss Cam” and get in on the fun.

The empty nest

May 10, 2016May 10, 2016 / Patsy Kuipers / 1 Comment

I’m a frequent visitor at my daughter’s house. Mary has her hands full taking care of three little people under the age of five and I enjoy helping out even though I’m now sorely outnumbered!

Several weeks ago I became aware of a “whoosh” whenever I’d step out the front door and onto their small porch. I soon realized I was being strafed by a mamma bird who’d built her nest in an eave of the portico. She picked a perfect place. Not only were she and her carefully constructed home sheltered from the elements and out of reach of any predators that might happen by, but we could observe from inside the house without disturbing her. My son-in-law peaked into the nest when mamma bird was away and found five tiny eggs. We watched as she faithfully warmed and protected the eggs. And one day we saw five little heads, with open mouths clamoring to be fed. Mamma bird diligently cared for her brood. The little ones grew quickly . . . and then one day I went over . . . and the porch was quiet . . . and they were gone.

Even though we human mothers are given years to nurture our children, time passes so quickly it sometimes seems it’s only days, like the time it took the mother bird to raise her young. Over the years I’ve shared this bittersweet sentiment with other mothers: “If we do our job well, the end result is an independent adult.” Mothering requires a balance of holding on and letting go and the wisdom to know which is needed at any particular time in our children’s lives. It’s a difficult but necessary process.

Yet my own dear mother has often said, “Once a mother, always a mother”, a statement every bit as true as the one I wrote above. I’m convinced the mama bear syndrome knows no age limits. After all, of the many people who were upset when my 30-year career ended via termination, my mom was the most incensed by the treatment I’d received. Even now, at age 84, I have no doubt she’d be my staunchest defender – all 98 pounds of her. And don’t even think about messing with my kids and grandkids!

It’s that time of year – the time of graduations and weddings. So for you mothers reading this and contemplating the emptying of your nests, I offer this: one day you may realize the independent adult you worked so long and hard to raise has become one of your very best friends. Someone who brings joy to your life in new ways as you continue to cheer them on and are blessed by the fruits of your labors, and theirs.

I can still remember driving home after Mary and Justin’s wedding. I thought, “That’s it. I gave her away. It’s all over.” I was so wrong. I gained a son that night and now seven years later, there are those three little people I mentioned at the onset of this post. Mary and Justin’s nest is full and I am welcome there. Welcome to help nurture a new generation and introduce them to plants and mamma birds and to their Savior – the One who loves them even more than I do.