saying good-bye

The Cottage, fireside - July 1979

In the early 1970's, my grandparents purchased lakefront property in southwest Michigan as a secondary residence, a vacation spot for their family. The tiny yellow bungalow that sat in a row with all the other cottages on the landing was quaint and rustic, with a small cement stoop and squeaky storm door that led out to the grassy waterfront yard.

While small in stature, the cottage was a special place, bringing together a growing family that was living in many places during many different periods of life. Here we had boat rides and bonfires, forts in the upstairs bedrooms with vintage barbies and dress up clothes, and green vinyl chairs in the main living space approved for damp swimsuit bottoms. It was so much more than a meek summertime residence, but a place where our large family could gather to enjoy each other.

Uncle Keith with Kevin, Dad with Rachel - Summer 1978

When my grandparents decided to tear down the old yellow cottage in the early-90s and build an all-season home for retirement, it was exciting. Seeing the framing and shape of the house take place didn't sink in. Truth be told, all I remember about that cold visit during the build was the ugly black coat I was wearing with pink and teal stripes. But in the Spring when we walked through a nearly finished house, I do remember being awed. The space, the bedrooms, the bathtub with whirlpool jets!

The new house was grand. And so are my memories of time spent at The Lake.

I remember...

...running barefoot on the uneven grass occasionally feeling a large root beneath my feet, hurrying from the water to the back garage to grab a tube or raft or life jacket.

Rachel in dress-up - June 1982

...my grandma's reminders to gently close the door so my napping, baby brother would not wake up.

...sitting opposite my sister and cousins on the black inner tubes in the middle of the water, ankles hooked underneath, rocking up and down until someone fell off.

...my aunts sunbathing on the dock.

...being afraid of seaweed.

Rachel in the water - August 1983

...taking pontoon rides with my grandpa at the wheel, working on my tan on the back deck of the boat and having to share that spot with my sister.

...the Mayflies that came every June and covered the house with their dried up shells of a body. There was a time when I cut the grass at The Lake, and despite the hot temperatures, I bundled up in a hooded sweatshirt and jeans, fearful that a freshly-landed Mayfly would soar back to life as the wheels of the lawn mower rustled the grass.

...the summer my grandpa decided to get a jet ski.

Uncle Keith, Dad, Joel and David (neighbor boy) - Summer 1993

...hearing the music waft over from the Chapel during Sunday evening services.

...haircuts from Aunt Kelli, and shampoo lathered in the lake.

Aunt Kelli and Morgan -  September 2008

...the bonfires that concluded our Sundays with extended family gathered in a giant circle around the pit, making funnies about politics and sharing stories from the previous week, all served with a side of JELL-O and a percolator resting on the homemade grill.

Bonfire - July 2009

...driving west towards the highway in our Chevy Caprice, sticky from sunscreen and smelly from fire smoke, as the sky turned pink and another week was underway.

I grew up visiting this place, affectionately known as The Lake, every Sunday after church, every summer. My parents, siblings and I would make the 40-minute drive after worship to enjoy the water and sun and everything that went with it. Our Sunday tradition continued through college. And when I lived in the state's capitol for a time, I had the back-road route from The Lake to my apartment down pat.

Rachel, Joel, Sarah - May 2003

Once I was married, the visits were less frequent due to our long-distance travel-time. But the three summer holidays and a few spotty trips in between appeased my craving for those relaxing Sundays of lounging, visiting and sun-soaking.

Being able to bring my own kids to The Lake was a special treat for me. To see Morgan walking down the dead-end drive pushing vintage doll buggies with cousin Luke while I enjoyed the company of my siblings - I imagine that's how my parents, aunts and uncles once felt in the early 1980s. And here we were, re-creating that for the next generation.

Luke and Morgan with Sarah in the background - July 2010

When my grandpa passed away in 1999, the spirit of The Lake changed. What I took for granted - the gassed-up jet skis, the freshly cut lawn, the wood pile ready for our evening fire - was now inherited by the other men in the family. Instead of just showing up to enjoy the generous provisions of my grandparents, there was work to be done. Whether realized or not, that was a turn-off, and so the days dwindled when our large family gatherings were a regular occurrence.

Grandkids and Grandparents - August 1999

Grandma in the sunshine - June 1976

Over the years, my grandma lessened her time at The Lake, too. What was intended to be a permanent residence changed into a summer-only dwelling while she wintered at her condo in town. It wouldn't be long, however, before she stopped staying there on the occasional weekend. Only half the family used and maintained the property frequently, and when faced with the future of this special place, it was decided to sell.

After nearly 40 years of lake living, our family is saying good-bye. Memorial Weekend will be the first that my summer will not be kicked off at The Lake.

Several weeks ago, I made my last homage. A few finishing touches were put on the upcoming garage sale items, photos were taken, and good-byes were said. No other owners were around on the landing that day. The lake was cool and quiet and still with only a few docks put into the water. Buds on the trees had just started appearing and the newness of the season had just begun. I took one last walk through the house, absorbing all I could, and snapping this serene photo from my grandparents' second-floor master suite, a view I'm certain will be missed.

Last visit - April 2012

Now another family will enjoy our spot this summer. Their kids will run around in the grass, jump off the dock into the water and share time around the fire pit. It's their turn. And yet I don't want to share it with anyone.

I've decided that it's not the actual house or that particular piece of grass that I'm sad about losing. It's the tradition. The time spent as a family. This spot was a constant for our family, a place to come home to. My grandpa's job took him all over the state and as such, he and my grandma owned many different homes throughout the years. But despite the change, the ever-growing family and new plots frequently marked on the map, The Lake remained. It withstood the change.

September 2010

I suppose in my mind I never thought there would be an end to our days at The Lake. In my wildest dreams, my parents were going be the new Grandma and Grandpa M, and my generation was going to be the young parents with little ones running barefoot through the grass. Sadly this final chapter in our family's history book has ended. It's time to write a new book, with new places that hold special meaning, and new generations to write those stories. Getting our first chapter on paper will likely be difficult as we settle in and get comfortable with the absence of The Lake. But I'm certain with time, our sequel will be just as celebrated as the first book. Different, but filled with just as much love.

click photo for slide show

 

 

 

 

 

 

six words practiced

I recently read a blog post that so beautifully said what I need to practice as a parent. After being so moved, I shared the post with Scott.

Six Words You Should Say Today

Not more than a week later, we had the chance to put those six words into practice. Morgan's 4-year old preschool class had their annual Spring Concert this evening - a ten-minute series of songs performed in the gymnasium of the school, kids in the bleachers, hundreds of family watching from the court in folding chairs.

Scott and I were sure to operate a pressure-free night with no build-up of expectations about performance. Morgan's class had done this before in December, and maybe the familiarity of the experience helped. But after seeing her gently sing some words to the songs and meekly do the actions, Scott and I looked at each other and swelled with pride. She has come a long way.

It was then that he reminded me of the "Six Word" post that I showed him last week. Okay. So I could do that. Despite my elation and joy, I could follow-up afterwards with a brief sentence and nothing more. Or so I thought.

After making our way through the hall with the masses to the church foyer for cookies and punch, I connected with Morgan and said, "I loved watching you sing and do those actions! You were excellent!"

Almost. I just couldn't stop my mouth.

I wanted to try again. After our happy ride home and getting that giggly girl into bed, I tucked her in with a smile and simply said, "I loved watching you tonight." That was it. Then quickly on to prayers, back-scratching and song-singing.

It felt so good to affirm Morgan in that way, to know that my limited words could actually carry so much weight with her.

By nature I am a wordy person... And although I have never really thought about it, I'm pretty sure I'm wordy in my praise, too. I try not to criticize, but when I go into extensive details about my child's performance it could  be misinterpreted as not being "good enough." 

And that's the last thing I want to do. So going forward, Scott and I will remind each other of this goal. Of this delicate way to encourage our children without any strings attached. I am sure it will take practice as well as restraint, but that's the point. Less is more. And I can't wait for the chance to do it again!

sweet treat

18 weeks

What would this blog be without a few belly shots of the impending baby? I will spare you the weekly updates this time around and keep the routine photos to ourselves. But for my own peace of mind, I've gotta have some consistency with each child. And so it begins (albeit a little late in the game).

five years

Dear Morgan,

My precious Morgan. You are five years old today. Five! It seems like such a milestone birthday and yet this year has passed as quickly as all the others with just a few more layers added to your already existing personality.

Your loves have grown stronger this year. And although I've mentioned your connection with all things musical in nearly every birthday letter thus far, I'd be remiss if I didn't note the relationship you have with this creative side of yourself. In so many ways you are drawn to structure, instruction, and direction, however when it comes to music, you are incredibly imaginative. Singing your prayers, substituting lyrics, and finding a beat in everything - this is your outlet to originality. I love that you feel the freedom to express yourself in this way. And I'd be lying if I didn't say that I hope you and music continue to have this special bond.

As for the newness of the year, Daddy and I have noticed your shell starting to crack a bit. On a warm day in May, you insisted on keeping your van window down so the breeze could run across your face and mess up your hair. You run and jump and explore so much more spontaneously. I loved watching you play last summer, pumping yourself on the swing and letting it take you higher. Jumping, conquering, discovering. And then there's the inflatable bounce houses. We are still amazed that you enter and jump without reservation, giggling and laughing, your hairline sweaty and cheeks so rosy. With time on your side, it seems as though you are much more able to ease into these adventures.

Not only are you continuing to gain courage to try new things, but also the desire to test the boundaries more than ever before. As a girl who's always been so compliant, this has been difficult for me to accept from you. But I am also learning that a little defiance is a good indicator that when your parents aren't around, you won't be a door mat. That instead, you might speak up when your standards are questioned, share your beliefs when the opportunity presents itself, and rise to the occasion when given the choice between right and wrong.

For now, Andrew is the one you practice on. I watch as you navigate your role as big sister, figuring out how much of the mile you can take if Andrew gives up only an inch, wondering how many of his buttons can be pushed. And yet you thrive as his guide, explaining to him the mechanics of certain toys, helping him with the pronunciation of difficult words, and leading the way through our daily routines. I am certain you will continue to show your love effortlessly to your newest sibling later this year.

Your growth spurts are much more obvious to me now. In one meal, you polished off more than Daddy, and after dessert, asked for something else to fill your belly. While you've become more selective in your choices, you are definitely still a celebrated eater, putting away berries and melon, pineapple and pears, just like candy. It's no wonder that in this year alone, you've grown nearly three inches.

The transformations haven't just been physical. The rate at which your brain is absorbing information is astonishing, although I'm not surprised considering how aware you are of your surroundings. I think that goes hand-in-hand with your cautiousness - you're not so quick to jump into conversations, but instead sitting back to make incredible observations. If I remember correctly, on the second day of preschool you shared that another girl's socks were the same as the pair you had at home in the dresser. Just last week as we were buckling into the van, you noticed a new bag of fertilizer in the corner of our cluttered garage. The questions are constant, always noticing something new, out of place, or different than usual.

Even though the day is nearly over, and another year is in the books, those memories from five years ago still come easy. The phone call to your Grandma M, the anticipation in the hospital, the quick delivery, the feeling of a new life. Recently someone used the image of a baby in the womb as a metaphor for the ultimate way to abide in another person, specifically how Christ would love for us to abide in Him. That picture has stuck with me all week as something to strive towards. And that is my desire for you, Morgan. That this Jesus you are constantly learning about remains central in your world. That you abide in and depend on Him throughout your lifetime.

Soon after your birth, a friend burned a copy of Sara Groves' album Station Wagon for me to enjoy. I listened to it endlessly for the first year of your life, and now that music is forever etched into me, just as you will forever have a home in my heart. Someday you, too, will appreciate the sentiments sung in that album, the passion for motherhood, the love for your child and the realization that while precious and new, she will grow, change and become her own person.

The baby, toddler, and preschool years are officially behind us. There will come a time, Morgan, when more often than not, you and I will not be looking at the same map. You may see a path that's more appealing while I'll see one that seems more sensible. But I want you to know, I will do my best to accept that you might choose a different route than what I had dreamed for you. You will let go of my hand. When that happens, don't forget to turn and look over your shoulder - I will always be there in the distance. Waving, doing my best to smile, and whispering a prayer.

God has matched you with Daddy and I. And while your dependence on us is still quite necessary, we realize that this won't always be the case. You are flourishing. We are grateful. And we love you dearly.

Happy birthday, Morgan Grace.

All my love,
Mom

tournament time

With March Madness in full swing, the kids have been exposed to many-a-collegiate men's basketball game. And while Morgan's interest quickly fades, Andrew is glued. And then ready to play some hoops himself, reenacting the players moves right there in front of the television.

It's been quite fun, watching him imitate these grown men that are twice his size. Yesterday was no exception as he practiced shooting hoops in our backyard. Makes me wonder... will he still adore the sport when he's older?

practice

During our visit to Florida in February, Andrew and Morgan both had an opportunity to hold their newest cousin, Will.


andrew holds will from Rachel on Vimeo.

morgan holds will from Rachel on Vimeo.

While Will wasn't as excited, I enjoyed watching my two kiddos with a precious new baby on their laps. Andrew's choking hug made me smile, and when Morgan instinctually began to soothe Will by rocking, I beamed.

In those moments, all I could do was think about the new baby they will be holding just six months from now. Our baby. Come September there will be a new little one in our corner of the world!

I am still in awe some days that God has chosen to bless us again. Mostly because I spent many months grieving the death of that dream. And praying for acceptance that I could move on and enjoy our foursome without such a deep longing for another. And here we are now. Well on our way. Ever thankful for this new life.

I prayed for this child, and the LORD has granted me what I asked of him. 
1 Samuel 1:27

madness

We got a little crazy tonight and broke routine to dine on pizza in the basement while watching the Spartans fight it out for the the Big10 Championship title. We had a great time! Maybe we'll repeat the fun when things get a little more maddening in April.