from the mouths of babes

Debbie's youngest brother's wife's step-mom (since 1979) died last week, and we went to the visitation in Frankton on Thursday evening. John and Lisa have two children, Nicholas and Cassandra, although I've come to find out that we're actually calling her "Casey" now.
I don't recall how old they are, but I'm thinking he is around 7, and she is like 2 or so.

When Debbie and I got to the visitation, we saw Nicholas sitting and rocking in a non-rocking chair, holding his Tigger. We approached him, and Aunt Debbie asked how he was doing. Nicholas immediately told her that "That's Grandma over there, but she's not really there...She's with God."
He continued to explain:
"Grandma was sick, and her heart stopped working, but she's not sick anymore.
She closed her eyes and went to sleep, and when she opened her eyes, she was in Heaven
with Jesus."

John and Lisa clearly had been honestly preparing him for the loss of his Grandma, and he had been listening and taking it all in. On the morning of the visitation, they told him they were going to see her at the funeral home. When they got there, and he saw her body in the casket, he turned to Dad and asked, "Is this Heaven?"
(John wanted to say, "No, this is Iowa", but he resisted.)

Sometimes kids get it, and sometimes they don't. But you have to give them the benefit of equipping them with the truth. They seem to handle it better than we adults can imagine.

As I looked around the room set aside to memorialize Grandma Karen, I saw many family members talking, hugging, crying, reuniting, remembering, and loving on each other.
Loved ones gathered around.

Maybe Nicholas wasn't so far off after all.
Turns out, there was a little bit of Heaven in the funeral home, just like he said.

Lost

I was intrigued by this article from kottke.org on the real Robinson Crusoe,
a Scotsman named Alexander Selkirk, who was actually left behind on an
uninhabited South Pacific island by his unhappy ship captain in 1704.

Daniel Defoe met Selkirk in a English pub in 1711, after Selkirk's return to
civilization, and upon hearing his island stories, Defoe went on to write
"Robinson Crusoe", celebrated as the first novel in the English language.

shoulder

If you're scoring at home, my babysitting stint with my sister's
grandson went quite well, if not miraculous. As soon as my sister
walked out the door, Jaylen began wailing. I sat down and gave
him his bottle, which he consumed, and then continued to cry quite
loudly. I noted that this was going to be a very long, loud hour.

I held him in the rocking chair, and used the "blowing on the eyes"
trick sister Kristin uses, and although Jaylen wailed for most of a
minute, just as suddenly, his head dropped to my shoulder, and he
slept like a rock for a solid hour.

It was a lovely afternoon with my grand-nephew, or whatever he is to me.
I've lost track.

Other people's kids are so cool.

nervous

I'm a little nervous.
I'm heading over to my sister's house to watch her grandson, Jaylen, for a few hours, while she goes to rehab.
(Relax; it's for her shoulder...)

I'm nearly 48 years old, and I've never changed a diaper. Never really even been that close to one. What if Jaylen poops while I'm there? I'll keep some phone numbers handy. I wonder if there are some laminated diagrams posted near the toy chest?

I'll keep you posted.

stick

"123456789-10"

1. Sesame Street: The Surprising Rocker Behind the Numbers

Sesame Street was sort of the MTV of children’s programming when it premiered in 1969. There were a few adult “regulars” in the neighborhood, but the true stars were the Muppets – Ernie, Bert, Big Bird, Oscar, et al – and the various animated shorts and comedy skits. I already knew my alphabet and numbers, so I was a bit older than the target demographic of Sesame Street, but I still watched it regularly because the A.D.D.-soothing, rapid-fire graphics were mesmerizing. Plus, the songs were catchy. One of my favorite recurring bits was the “Jazzy Spies,” which featured a frenetic musical background while a singer repeatedly intoned the particular numeral being highlighted. The vocalist was none other than Grace Slick (of Jefferson Airplane/Starship), whose then-husband, Jerry Slick, actually produced those segments.

(borrowed from Mental Floss)

Mom was in Church today

I laughed, and I cried in church today.

Debbie and I went to church today, and we sat in our usual place.
Or at least, the usual section. In a church that seats 2000, you don't really sit
in the same spot in the same pew every Sunday, like my Mom and Dad did.
When Mom first started missing church, as her health began to fail, many in
the Congregation knew it immediately, because there was a gap in the pew
where Mom and Dad had sat for years. There was a time when most of the
family sat there, but that didn't happen so much in recent years.

Midway through the 11:00am service, chock full of late-risers, it was announced
that Communion was going to be offered. As the bread and wine (yeah, we all have
figured out that's it's grape juice) were being passed out, I was struck by some recent
memories, that ran me through a surprising ride of emotions.

On the weekend before this past Christmas, the extended Horn family gathered at Mom and Dad's house to celebrate our family Christmas early, so that we could all be back at our own
homes on Christmas Day. As is Horn family tradition, the enclosed patio out back is where
we keep the holiday cookies, pies, and extra bread, and such. At some point on Saturday,
seven and a half year old Allison had gone out to sneak a seven layer bar, and when she came back into the house, she walked a bagged Italian loaf up to her Mom (my sister Kristin), and
asked, "Mommy, is this the Body of Christ?"

Apparently Allison had received Communion fairly recently.

After my Mom died in January, Reverend Dave came by the house to talk with our family before he presided over Mom's service. We told many stories and testimonies about Mom and family,
and for some reason, Allison's story of "the Body of Christ" on the patio came up, and Reverend Dave got a nice laugh.

The Sunday after we buried Mom, I went to the 8:00am Church service with Dad. The Church parlor felt well comfortably full, with nearly 40 seats filled. Not quite the 2000 I'm used to seeing on Sundays, but certainly much more warm and intimate.

When it came time to take Communion, there were no ushers to pass trays of bread and wine to the assembled. We single-filed our way up toward Reverend Dave, who held a fresh loaf of bread for the breaking. As I broke off my hunk, Dave calmly said, "This is the Body of Christ."
I solemnly nodded, and began the shuffle to my left for the wine, when I heard him add,
"Don't worry; it's not the Italian loaf from the patio."

I probably wasn't supposed to laugh out loud in that moment, but I did, and I saw a huge grin on Reverend Dave's face. He knew how difficult the past few weeks had been, and I think he also knew that I deserved a smile. He was right.

I thought of all this as they were passing out Communion today, and I laughed nearly out loud about Allison's "Body of Christ" loaf, and I grinned thinking about Reverend Dave's words, and then I realized that Communion might now forever remind me of the holidays when my Mom died.

It occurred to me that there would always be so many little things that might trigger emotional thoughts and memories of Mom, and I might never actually stop grieving her death.
And as I contemplated the weight of that, I began to cry.

Debbie looked over, wordlessly, and simply held my hand in true comfort and compassion.
Like a true introvert, even in that moment, I felt self-conscious, and struggled to contain my
emotions. I gathered myself for a moment, slipped off again, and then focused my eyes on the
beams of the ceilings until I regained control. I had an unfounded concern that those around me might mistake my tears for some major spiritual breakthrough, and begin to lay hands upon me.

But alas, it was only the hand of Debbie. And God. And my Mom.

Afterward, as we walked out, I explained to Debbie that I had had a "Mom moment".
We agreed that I should get used to it, and I told her that I will always embrace these
moments, because they will keep her love fresh in my heart.

I hope they never go away.

Love you forever, Mom.

ok, now I can hear you....

Frozen Custard

I have some thoughts and memories on the Frozen Custard in Lafayette, Indiana, upon the recent passing of the iconic 101 year old "Cone Lady".

But these thoughts will have to wait until after the Super Bowl. After all, I can't miss all the great commercials.