Two celebrations plus a sea otter

 Celebrations restore the spirit, no matter how young or old we are. My spirit has been restored twice since my last blogpost. The celebrations span the generations. My grandson and his new wife are beginning their life of adventure in North Africa, and many of their supporters and friends gathered to pray for them as they prepare to leave us soon. And, on the other end of the age spectrum, the family gathered to celebrate my 80^th birthday. Can you imagine? Grandson and Grandma, whooping it up.

Aren and Anna were married in June and now they’re preparing for what might be a long-term adventure in a North African country, helping set up local businesses. They’re planning to travel light, and purchase locally all they need to live on which will probably be minimal. They’re very idealistic and totally committed.

Last week they invited a group of their supporters and prayer partners to a barbecue, with dishes they prepared from their new adopted country. These kids could set up a restaurant business if they wanted! Delicious food. It was a time for them to express their appreciation for all the support people have shown them. And it was a time for us to celebrate their dedication and commitment and to pray for them.

Like a typical Grandma, I couldn’t help but remember when Aren was a baby, very cute and often very serious, a determined but totally funny toddler. As he grew up, we didn’t understand what ADHD was, but when he finally received the diagnosis, all his restlessness and hyper-activity as a young boy made sense. Not that he was always restless. He showed great powers of concentration when building things, first with blocks, then graduating to Tinkertoys, Lincoln Logs, and finally to elaboration Lego constructions. Now armed with a degree in mechanical engineering (a natural!) he’s off to change the world. We couldn’t be prouder.

Then on Sunday, it was my turn.  In the middle of a sea of sunny days, this was predicted to be the one day it rained. As it turned out, the sun did his usual beautiful thing. The celebration was in a covered pavilion in a public park and four generations converged, with Hal and me being the oldies, and our two and one/half great-grand-babies bringing up the tail (and hogging most of the attention by being their adorable selves).

The day before, I mentioned to Hal at breakfast that I feared our son David was going to ask me to say some words of wisdom to the group. So I asked Hal to help me think up some wise words beforehand. We thought a while, but both of us came up blank. Then I remembered the three words. Earlier, in a time of quiet meditation, I had asked God for three words that I could live out in my 80^th year of life, something to encourage and inspire. The words that popped into my brain (or were placed there) were courage, humor, and beauty. My spirit said YES. So these are my words for 2025-2026. I’m not sure just how I will live out these words; I’ll have to let you know later. But I decided that if asked for some wise words at my party, I could toss these into the air.

It was all such a happy time and I was given the gift of a family glad to celebrate the life of this 80-year-old lady. We ate well, got caught-up on news, laughed, celebrated, and had birthday-cobbler (my not being a fan of cake). I did not have to blow out 80 candles. But I warmed my heart to more than 80 words of memories, gratitude, and celebration, all gifts from them to me. I shared my three words and my daughter added two more for me to take into the year: grace and joy. I think it will be a good year. Maybe not always easy, but good.

I encourage you to take any chance you get to celebrate life and the ones you love. Maybe even let God give you some new words to live by. It certainly makes growing old easier. Joyful even.

 

Note: I promised in the title I would say something about sea otters. By the way, this has nothing to do with the rest of the blog on celebrations. It’s just that I thought you should know that this is National Sea Otter Awareness Week. In order to become more aware of sea otters, I did some Internet research. Among other facts, I learned that Alaskan sea otters often float out to sea on thin ice rafts. If two otters float out, each on a separate raft, they hold hands (paws) to stay together. That’s inspiring. Aren’t you glad you know?

Life marches on, with celebration!

 On Saturday, June 7, we celebrated the wedding of our grandson Aren to his beloved Anna. The bride was beautiful, the groom could not stop smiling, the worship was rich, and the joy in the whole gathering was palpable. Too many superlatives? Not really. As the grandma, I am totally objective. There’s never been a wedding like this one!

The whole event began on Friday with the rehearsal at the venue (an old picturesque barn 45 minutes outside of Newberg). The rehearsal was followed by a lunch for the wedding party back in Newberg on the campus of George Fox University. It was large as the wedding party included 10 bridesmaids and 10 groomsmen. Aren and Anna have a lot of close friends! It was an open-mic time and many people shared about their experiences with the bride and groom and gave advice, some wise, some funny. Then we all gathered around Aren and Anna to pray.

On Saturday we rode with our son and daughter-in-law (Aren’s parents) to the wedding, arriving at 2:30 to help with last minute stuff. The wedding was at 3:30, outdoors in the heat (we were all given fans). The very meaningful ceremony was followed by a time of visiting and fellowship in the barn with platters of meats, cheeses, crackers, nuts and fruit. The word abundance comes to mind. The dinner began at 6:00, followed by more speeches and prayers. And finally, let the dancing begin! The music was lively; they even danced to “Splish, Splash, I Was Takin’ a Bath” (from my high school years).

Anna’s extended family and friends had come in from Chicago and Wisconsin, plus there were guests from Ruanda, Moracco, France, Bulgaria, and Mexico. Like I mentioned, Aren and Anna have lots of friends.

Hal and I left early (after 7 hours of celebration!) and so missed the send-off. But we left with joyful hearts. We know God’s blessing is on this couple who plan to live and serve in North Africa.

I felt honored as Aren and Anna had asked me to write and read the wedding blessing. “Make it as long as you want, Grandma!” Aren had told me. I did, however, use some restraint. I got to read the blessing at the beginning of the ceremony. I’m going to end this blog with the blessing: 

Marriage Blessing
Aren Thomas and Anna Town
June 7, 2025

Aren and Anna,

We, your family and friends who love you, gather with you today to witness your vows, affirm the path you’ve chosen, and get really really happy as we see your joy in each other.

Growing up in two different continents, you met on a third continent. Your friendship has been global from the beginning, and it’s about to become more so. Your two different streams are becoming one new river of faith that will go out into the world.

You bring together certain differences. In some ways it seems like hyper-activity marrying serenity. You’re creating a unique blend of adventure and common sense, of idealism and practicality. That blending is your strength.

Today we bless you with our prayers for the following:

n -- A growing commitment to open communication with each other; a wise use of words to explore, reveal, challenge, solve problems, make laugh, heal, and bless.

n  --Beauty in the places you go—places with mountains, rivers, deserts, wild flowers, and beasts you’ve never seen before. And beauty in the people you’ll meet in those places—people who will become friends.

n -- A combination of exciting adventures and the deep peace of being under God’s protection—both at the same time.

n  --Creativity by the bucketful—new paintings, recipes, pottery mugs and critters; new ideas and new ways of handling old tasks.

n  --Humor in the people you meet, in the strange things people say without meaning to, in your own mistakes, in each other, and in all the stuff life brings your way (even the hard stuff).

n -- Great food—the discovery of new dishes around the world, and in your own home—cooking it and serving it to others; a ministry of hospitality.

n  --Children—your own, God willing, and those you meet wherever you go. Kids to be silly with, tell stories to, listen to, build Lego fortresses and dragons in the sand with, to love and care for.

n  --Businesses built, restaurants opened, workers trained, people transformed because you loved and accompanied them.

n  --With all the moving and the possibility of living in different places, a sense of permanence and stability that comes from your relationship with each other and with God.

n  --Growth in grace and in knowing Jesus.

Two streams converging into a river in God’s kingdom. May you always hear the voice of the One who walks by your side as he says, “I will be with you always, even to the ends of the earth.”

We bless you on this, your wedding day.

                            With Aren's sisters

                            Parents of the groom

                                Happy couple

                                Happy grandparents

The very worse grandma ever

As I write this, preparations are under way for our grandson’s wedding. It’s an exciting time, a time for dreaming of the future, but also a time for remembering the past. And getting a bit sentimental about it.

We’ve enjoyed each stage in our grandkids’ growing up years, from the thrill of the newborn babies and our shock at becoming grandparents, to the cute little-kid stage, the challenges of adolescence, then watching each one mature into an adult. And of course our relationships changed as they grew older.

This morning I’m remembering our grandkids as cute little-kids. We loved being with them, relishing their adoration of Grandpa and Grandma. For the most part, this was easy and fun. It was their parents’ turn to do the hard stuff, especially the disciplining.

“For the most part,” I write. From time to time we volunteered (or were asked) to care for the kids while their parents traveled for some reason or other. (Sometimes it was to have time off, away from their kids!) That was when it got harder for us. Our grandkids were all normal, active, sometimes mischievous kids who knew how to take advantage of an opportunity to get away with behavior their parents might not allow.

I remember one time 15 years ago when our daughter asked Hal and me to spend a week taking care of our three grandchildren, ages 2, 5, and 8. Their parents were leading a group of middle-schoolers on their annual trek to Washington, DC.

I approached the week with both fear and anticipation. We had planned a list of fun activities and a menu of meals we hoped would please as well as nourish. We knew the behavioral rules and household routines their parents followed and determined to lovingly but firmly carry these out.

All this preparation helped. But I was again impressed by how challenging it is to raise children. Especially little children. They can be tough critters.

One of my tasks became combating the perception that the role of grandparents is to be on continuous call to entertain, to engage in a non-stop marathon of sword fights, hide-n-seek, I-spy, story books and movies, bike and scooter races, Monopoly, Chutes and Ladders, X-box, trips to the park, and on and on and on.  Not to mention the special needs of our two-year-old autistic grandson who loudly repeated every demand until he knew without a doubt he held our full attention.

I simply did not have the energy to keep up the continuously fun-loving grandma facade. I found myself mentally repeating, “You are an adult. Respond like one.” The low point came early in the week when I caught myself in the middle of a fight between the 8 and 5-year-old, yelling at them to “stop all this yelling!” At that moment I felt like the world’s worse grandma.

But eventually my mature self kicked in. Hal and I were able to support one another and find balance, to be ourselves and the grandparents these kids needed.

Many highlights brightened the week, like the morning Paige and I spent outdoors building a fairy house. Her idea, this was to be a refuge for fairies from the rain, hidden under a bush and behind a rock. We traipsed all over the yard gathering moss, leaves, pine cones, petals—anything that might make a cozy fairy house.

At one point, Paige turned to me, totally serious, and said, “I have to tell you something, Grandma. Fairies aren’t real.”

“Oh?” I responded, waiting for what would come next.

“But I think God could make some fairies if he wanted to.”

“Yes, he probably could,” I replied.

Long pause.

“Don’t you wish he wanted to?”

Yes, Paige, I do wish that.

And I wish God would make me into the perfect grandma.

The kids were glad to see their parents at the end of the week (perhaps not as glad as we were!), but I was encouraged when Paige asked me, “Do you have to go now, Grandma?”

All that makes me smile in memory. Our relationships are different now, appropriately so. Paige is a sophomore in Western Oregon University, majoring in theater, putting her imagination to good use. We drive over once a month to take her out to lunch. I delight in her wisdom as a young adult and in the person she’s becoming.

Our son is now a grandpa himself. We love watching our great-grandchildren as babies, knowing we will probably only have a peripheral role in their lives. Our grown kids get to be the grandparents; it’s their turn.

And that’s the way it should be.

Unruly saints and questionable angels

 A group of residents here in the retirement community share an interest in family genealogies. They have the technology and resources for their investigations, and they encourage each other along.

We all want to know more about our ancestors. The Old Testament teaches that we receive generational blessings and/or curses through our family lines. Both life and death. The holy and the void. 

Russian poet Yevtushenko writes about visiting an orthodox church in a village: 

I am inside the church of Koshueti:
on a wall without dogmatic loyalty
unruly saints and questionable angels
tower upwards in front of me.

He’s describing the old portraits of the church’s “ancestors” adorning the walls of the sanctuary. Having been in similar Latin American Catholic churches, I can picture the old faces solemnly looking down.

In the temple of my imagination, I can see the portraits of my ancestors in a long line. As I learn more about them, I recognize among them several unruly saints and questionable angels. I hail from some very interesting characters. Thankfully, I have relatives on both sides of the family (my father’s people and my mother’s) who have taken the time and trouble to do genealogical research and write it down. There are many holes in the history, many things I wish I knew, but much is available to me and I lap it up like a hungry puppy.

Let me start by telling you about a famous person in my background. I hope this impresses you. My Grandma Nichols’ great uncle was no other than—are you ready?—the great Charlie Post, inventor of Post Grape-Nuts! Uncle Charlie developed a cereal industry that supplied the breakfast tables of middle-class Americans for decades. Think Post-Toasties, Honey Bunches o’ Oats, and Pebbles.

[Interesting side-note: I married a man whose grandmother’s maiden name was Kellogg. As anyone knowledgeable in American history knows, the Post and Kellogg families were arch rivals in the cereal world. I think the Kelloggs finally won out over the Posts, with Corn Flakes sitting on the throne of the breakfast cereal empire. It’s amazing that Hal and I get along as well as we do.]

Since I obviously can’t detail my whole family story (and you obviously wouldn’t want me to), let me give a few snippets that fascinate me

--On my mother’s side, my Great-Great-Grandpa James Mott Van Wagner was a Congregational minister who supported his family as a phrenologist (one who counseled people based on the size and shape of their skull). More importantly, his home was a station on the underground railway. My Great Aunt Edna wrote that her grandpa “was very outspoken and more broad in his religion than most folks in those days. He would not stand for any dissentions in the church. As soon as they took place, he would leave and go to another pastorate. Consequently, they lived in many places.”

--My great grandmother Gertrude Gleason was born on a farm in Vermont that had been “purchased from the Indians for a gallon of whiskey.” Another of the Gleason relatives had a family of 17 children. The last one was named “Mercy!”

--My Grandpa Nichols was an alcoholic and compulsive gambler which, during the Great Depression, made things hard on the family. He experienced a turn-around through Alcoholics Anonymous and spent the last 13 years of his life sober. Good for you, Grandpa!

On my father’s side of the family, my cousin David spent several years doing extensive genealogical research. At the time he lived in Salt Lake City which is the genealogical capital of the country, so he had ample resources at hand. He put his findings in large binders and gave copies to all us cousins.

David discovered that the earliest known Forsythe ancestors came from Aquitaine in France and migrated to England, then up to Scotland, and eventually to Ireland and back to England. Got that? In Scotland the Forsyths were an important clan with a coat of arms—four griffins on a plaid background with an inscription that translates, “Restorers of the Ruins.” Very impressive.

But David’s book of ancestor stories digs before the Forsythe line and stretches back to 300 AD with one Flavius Afranius Syagruis of France, my 43rd Great Grandfather. (43rd means this man was my Great Great Great Great—repeat 43 times!—Grandfather.) The math of ancestry becomes astronomical, considering I have two parents, four grandparents, eight great-grandparents, 16 great-greats, and so on. (All this before marrying Hal and doubling the count for our kids.) So I can’t really take too much pride in descending from Flavius Afranius Syagruis because millions of other people can say the same.

But Cousin David went ahead and listed some of my more illustrious ancestors. They include Charlemagne, the Holy Roman Emperor, my 32nd Great Grandfather; William the Conqueror, my 24th Great Grandfather; Louis the Fat, King of France, my 23rd Great Grandfather (1100s). My favorite is Eva McMurrough or “Red Eva,” my almost mythical Irish 22nd Great Grandmother who is said to have been over eight feet tall, had blazing red hair, and waged continuous war. She killed the enemy with her hair, braiding chunks of iron into the coils, then whacking away.

David’s list goes on, eventually narrowing down to my actual grandparents. David writes in his introduction, “At some point, if it were not for familial inter-marriages, our ancestors would theoretically equal the population of the world. But hindsight shows that our ancestors were an incestuous lot, and a brief look at the charts is enough to make one wonder why we’re not all insane.”

It would be insane for me to go any further with this, in spite of all the stories I’ve left out. I ask myself, “Who am I the proudest to be descended from—the minister/phenologist who captained the underground railroad or Red Eva?” Eva, I think.

Well, now that you know my claim to fame (Charlemagne and Charlie Post), I hope you will give me the respect I am due.

Who are your illustrious ancestors? Any unruly saints or questionable angels?

Over the river and through the woods

 

“Lord, you have been our dwelling place
throughout all generations.”  Psalm 90:1

Over the River and through the Woods…

to Grandmother’s house we go.
We used to sing that at Thanksgiving.
My mind gobbled up the image,
an idealized Thomas Kincaid calendar picture
complete with snow, a horse-drawn sleigh,
candle-light streaming from the windows,
and a plump, rosy-cheeked grandma,
apple pie in hand, waiting to welcome
the family home. I knew that’s how it would be
when I became an old lady. Grandpa and I
would be the hub of a living wheel
of hugs and stories, music and good food.
Welcome, welcome! Welcome home!

That’s not how it turned out.
We are well taken care of in our retirement home,
but our small apartment can host two or three
at the most. Family gatherings take place
at one of our kids’ homes and now include
numerous in-laws. We have to decide where
to go for Thanksgiving dinner. Thomas Kincaid
flew out the window years ago.

Thank you for replacing my fantasy
with a vision of reality richer and warmer
than any calendar picture.
You, Lord, have been our dwelling place
through all generations.

You are the hub of the wheel.
You shelter us, feed us, teach
and discipline us, give us rest.
You make us one in you.
You’re the one who says, Welcome home

A wide-angle lens and a blessing

 One of the privileges of aging is acquiring a wide-angle lens in the camera of our memories. We can see from the back (sometimes way back) to the tomorrows in the family line. The march of the generations comes into sharper focus. And we come to appreciate the wisdom of the Preacher in Ecclesiastes: “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven” (3:1).

There is a time to be born, says the Preacher, and a time to die, in addition to a time for all the other important life events. The ancient Israelites commemorated the Big Stuff by erecting stone altars of remembrance. We become like rock collectors, erecting stone altars in our memories for births, weddings, more births, and, of course, deaths. And the generations march on. Soon we’ll be another memory to our loved ones (hopefully a good memory).

“A time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance.” We weep and mourn in the season of death. But we laugh and dance at weddings.

This passing of seasons, times, and generations became especially poignant for me this last weekend. Gwen Amahoro Thomas married Matthew Burgi. Gwen is our granddaughter, third child of our son.

In the weeks before the wedding I remembered our wedding 53 years ago, its simplicity and celebration, and what a new stage of life it initiated. I remembered the weddings of our son and daughter, weddings which marked another transition, not just for the new families, but for us as parents of married kids. We were very involved in the weddings of both kids, in planning, helping write the vows and blessings, even in actually officiating in our capacity as pastors. That created a huge stone of memory.

But there’s something different about the wedding of a grandchild. For one thing, we weren’t involved in the details of planning; that was the privilege of their parents. The clothes were similar, but different too. My best friend made my wedding dress, plus the matching gowns of my two bridesmaids. My daughter spent “big bucks” on her gorgeous wedding dress, which made her look like a southern belle. My granddaughter Gwenie purchased her wedding gown at a thrift store and had it altered to fit. I love it!

The ceremony and following reception were, indeed, times of laughter and dancing. Hal and I didn’t dance at our wedding; Friends disapproved. Matt and Gwen waltzed, but then the real dancing began with all sorts of lively rhythms and movements, including line-dancing. If I didn’t have dizzy-issues, I would have joined; Hal is still a “good Quaker.”

The bride and groom had asked two sets of grandparents to participate in the wedding. (Again, the generations!) Matt’s grandparents, Phil and Kay Burgi, read the Scriptures. Hal and I got to read the blessing.

I wrote life-blessings for each of my seven grandchildren before they were born. And now I’m beginning to write marriage blessings. This one was on behalf of the extended family and friends of the couple. We read it at the beginning of the ceremony, right after David and Debby “gave away” their daughter.

 

A Wedding Blessing
for Matt and Gwen
July 29, 2022

What an exciting and blesséd time this is.
We’ve watched you gradually grow from friendship to love
and now to marriage.

This is only the beginning.

We, your family and friends, bless you on this day
with our prayers that God grant you…. 

--a determination to always have Jesus as the heart of your home,

--an increasing joy as you come to know each other
better through the years and the freedom
to always be yourselves with each other,

--a spirit of fun and play, no matter
the circumstances you find yourselves in,

--lots of plants and pets that co-exist in harmony
 (meaning the pets don’t eat the plants),

--an abundance of creativity that serves and blesses the world—
whether poems or paintings, windmills or water-purifying plants,

--respect and good communication,
the willingness to say “I’m sorry,” as well as “I love you,”

--wisdom and joy as parents, according to God’s plans,

--a growing love for each other that expands
into compassion for and service to
people around the world, wherever God may send you.

What an adventure you’re on!
Know that God accompanies you at each stage of the journey.
And know that we, your family and friends,
will continue to support you, pray for you, and bless you
with our love.

[With love from Grandma and Grandpa Thomas,
on behalf of many]

                                                   Sisters

                    David, Debby, Gwen, Matt, Gwenie's siblings