I've had family on my mind since Memorial Day. Maybe it's just my age because 80 will be the next big milestone and some days I really feel what all those years have done to my body, attitude and physical stamina. But it is looking in the mirror that makes me cower in both shock and horror. Each new line, wrinkle, age spot, white cyst around my eye, lump or sag of skin makes me long for days now past because my first thought in getting ready for the day is to place a brown paper bag over my head and be done with it--rather than applying a little make up that used to enhance the size of my eyes and make my skin look hydrated instead of like the dry, drifting sand of some desert.
But I am discovering the old truism that a smile from the heart really can make an older woman look sweet and beautiful, as long as her previous years have not been spent in scowling, complaining and being a generally miserable person. And to make aging even sweeter, I am no longer worried about all the things that used to take so much of my time and energy. A few weeds in my flowerbeds no longer sends me into some fit of frenzy, fixing meals means making enough for five or six days of leftovers and shopping is little more than a waste of energy because having the latest gadgets just mean something else to learn that holds no real interest for me and the latest fashions are just plain ugly or simply a revamping of what I used to wear.
Instead of traveling the world, I'm content watching documentaries about other countries or simply seeing pictures of them in books because the thought of going anywhere too far from my own bed, having to deal with airports, customs and people I can't understand and being forced to eat food that most likely no longer agrees with my digestive system simply makes me tired. I'm finding that my most enjoyable days are spent in basic solitude with all the noise and confusion of the world shut out while reading, listening to enjoyable music, doing little crafty projects, contemplating life and trying to figure out how I can most effectively use what remains of my time in coming to know God and my Savior, Jesus Christ on a more personal level.
Along with that comes trying to decide what I want to leave as my minor imprint on this world when my time to leave it actually arrives. That's where family comes in--all the good, bad, messy, heartbreaking and ugly that often defines our relationships with those who share our bloodline or were adopted into it. I wish I knew the secret to healing some of the rifts found between siblings, parents and extended family but have come to believe some of those attitudes and behaviors will have to wait until the next life to be resolved. We mortals simply lack the willingness and ability to see things as clearly as we should. We're much too involved with self actualization and fulfillment, gaining material assets and doing whatever we want as long as it makes us feel good for the moment.
But deciding what that imprint will be hasn't been easy. Long ago I knew I wanted to be remembered as being kind. That seemed like a noble ambition but was a little altruistic--sort of like all the beauty contestants wanting world peace. So I took a deeper look and that's what has keep me busy the past seven months. It started with finishing my life history--a volume that ended up being over 500 pages long because I wanted it to serve a number of different purposes. I wanted my younger siblings to know what it was like growing up with daddy, my children to better understand why their home-life on our small farming acreage was not that great and my posterity to gain an appreciation of my deep love for God and my Savior and that challenges overcome are the only way to personal growth and maturity of spirit.
Next, I made counted cross-stitch bear pictures depicting what I felt defined each person in my family best like secretary, business person, homemaker or fisherman. Then I quilted, by hand, thirteen baby quilts for my grandchildren that I truly hope will be used for human posterity instead of just cats and dogs which are all the rage of young adults these days. After using the remainder of my large pieces of fabric and the last of my batting on two queen-size quilts, I moved on to putting together 4-inch scrapbooks for my son and daughter that used up a majority of the supplies I'd had in two tubs in my garage for years. When that was done, I sanded, stained and applied photos to wood kits for them.
During June and July, while the temperatures remained from 95 to 105 everyday, I finished two additional books. The first was a compilation of the stories my Grandma Ririe and Uncle Douglas Ririe wrote titled To Laugh, Cry and be Surprised. The second was taking a rough draft of Grandma Ririe's teen novel and rewriting 95 percent of it since it was written in the 1950's and talked about the Cold War with Russia that teenagers today know little to nothing about. I sent that off to be published last week under the title she had given it of Mystery of the Crying Cave. Needless to say, Christmas this year for my children and grandchildren will be centered on the homemade and family history. Whether they appreciate it or not remains to be seen, but I hope they will feel my love and devotion to each of them and how important family is to me, even though we see very little of each other.
With all of that complete, I am now ready to move on to other things. I know that will include more writing since that gift has become such a huge part of me. I no longer care that few others appreciate what I do and even criticize, belittle and mock my endeavors to my face because I'm not into going to the gym on a daily basis, golfing, traveling, shopping, doing lunch or talking on the phone like all my other siblings find so enticing. After all, I am a farm girl and it's the simple things of life that mean the most to me. I love it when people are walking their dogs and stop to tell me how beautiful my flowers are, or when I give a talk or a lesson and someone appreciates what I've said. But I've never really needed to be seen or let my presence be known. In fact, I run for cover most of the time so I won't be noticed because I really don't know what to say to anyone.
My life has not gone according to any plan I would have made and my disappointments and heartaches have been great, but along with that has come a deep and abiding love for my Heavily Father, my Savior, Jesus Christ, and my family; especially my ancestors who are responsible for where I was born, the overpowering traits I inherited from a select few of them and the kind of foundation received so I would want to be a productive, kind and informed adult. My mission here is unlike that of any other, and yet we all share similarities that are far stronger than some of our differences.
What an honor it is to be alive and know that I am helping to prepare the world for the return of our Savior, Lord and King. There is no way of knowing how things will unfold until that eventful day arrives. I feel somewhat surprised by many of the things I hear and learn but am so grateful that I do not fear as so many people in the world do today. Even though our constitution is hanging by a thread, I have great hope that the citizens of our great country will remember our founding fathers and the divine assistance they received from above in framing our constitution and Bill of Rights. If we stand together as God-fearing and loving individuals we will survive and even thrive during the difficulties that are coming.
I know that with every beat of my heart and hope there will be many more before my time on earth is up. Still, I feel an urgency to accomplish everything I possibly can in letting others know that they are seen, heard and loved. Notwithstanding the unexpected, I finally have my affairs in order. My son has copies of my will and my trust, passwords, phone numbers, life insurance and investment policies. He knows I do not want a funeral or a lot a lot of fuss. A simple graveside interment will be enough. And while I have a few items I hope will stay in the family because they have great sentimental meaning to me, I am realistic enough to know that my children and grandchildren will not value them as I do.
I saw that after my next door neighbor died nearly a year ago now when her children brought three dumpsters to the front of her house and tossed nearly everything she had into them. Had I been less emotionally involved I would have put out a notice that a young couple could furnish their first apartment by doing a little dumpster diving. But instead I waited until right before the third one was hauled away. That's when I saw that her white, iron, settee that had sat by her front door for the ten years I had known her had been tossed inside. I pulled it out and put it in my back yard so it could stay where it belonged.
Guess it will be like that for most of us when we pass to the other side so we need to start letting go of some of the physical now. At least that's what I am trying to do. If there's something I would like a family member, neighbor or friend to have, I'm giving it to them now. Otherwise, they'll never get it. A lifetime in three dumpsters was a real wakeup call for me.
Here's a picture of some of the projects I finished as a visual that I actually did them.
