grandparenting

Schooled by a Twelve-Year-Old

Family Life, forgiveness, grandparenting, humility, Maturity, repentance / By / September 7, 2023 / , , , ,

Never be too cool for school!

Back-to-school season signals vacation time to empty nesters like me. I no longer rush to get the best deals on school supplies. I don’t have to kiss summer vacation goodbye. Alice Cooper’s song School’s Out for Summer rocks through my mind, but the line “school’s out forever,” by God’s grace, is not a reality for me. I still need schooling.

She and I discussed the road trip we hope to take together next year for her thirteenth birthday. I’ve dreamed of giving her this coming-of-age adventure ever since she was born, a time for intimate one-on-one conversations about womanhood and changing bodies. After all, menopause and aging are the second adolescence.

For those of us who love Jesus and desire to be more like Him, every day is a school day, an opportunity to learn more about Him and be corrected by Him when we’re wrong. I remember how often the Lord used my children to teach and correct me. This summer, He used my twelve-year-old granddaughter to correct my thinking.

We look forward to laughing and discovering together. I want to share with my granddaughter the essential things concerning life—true life in Christ. She’s as excited about this trip as I am.

As we dreamed about the trip, I mentioned, “And we can even have ice cream for breakfast if we want, and your mom doesn’t have to know.” Please understand I am not in the habit of keeping secrets from my daughter. There’s a bit of history here that you should know.

When my granddaughter was five and her little brother was three, the adults ate ice cream after they went to bed. My grandchildren went to bed without ice cream! A terrible injustice in this Grandma’s estimation. So, the following morning, they each received a bowl of ice cream for breakfast, a one-time fun-and-done thing, or maybe an occasional treat. But the silly children ruined the fun when they continued to pester their mom for ice cream for breakfast after returning home. In exasperation, my daughter forbids me to ever serve her kids ice cream for breakfast again. Hence, my remark. At thirteen, I knew my granddaughter wouldn’t want a sugar-packed breakfast every day. It was a harmless bit of fun—I thought. My granddaughter’s reaction to my comment surprised me.

“I don’t think I feel comfortable keeping secrets from my mom,” she replied.

She was right. My suggestion that seemed harmless was very dangerous and foolish. I don’t want her keeping secrets from her mom, either.

“I’m so glad you don’t want to keep secrets from your mom. You are right, and I’m proud of you for telling me so. Will you please forgive me for even suggesting it?” I asked.

I was so ashamed of myself and so proud of her for having more discernment than I did.

She said, “Of course, I forgive you, Grammy.”

She and I both shared our conversations with her mom, my daughter. She understood I meant no harm, and we both enjoyed seeing the maturity of her twelve-year-old. I pray she will continue to have an open relationship with her mom and me. I’m thankful she felt free to disagree with me. I’m also grateful for God’s patient instruction—even when He uses a preteen teacher.

How have your kids or grandkids schooled you recently? Let’s be lifelong learners for God’s glory. It’s how grand gals roll!

A Thanksgiving Story

celebrations, Community, Faith, Family Life, grandparenting, Maturity / By / September 24, 2022 / , , , , , ,
An Excerpt from Choose Now to Grow Grand, Not Old by Teri Gasser. Book on SALE now on Amazon for 33% OFF until November 26th!

Both of my grandmothers exercised wisdom when it came time to downsize and make a final move to be near family. However, only one seemed to take full advantage of the new possibilities. One event during a family gathering illustrates it best. It happened after our second Thanksgiving meal together.

I had spent much time and prayer preparing an activity for after the family feast. I wanted to facilitate a fun time of interaction between my mom, grandmas, and four children. Making gingerbread houses struck me as the perfect project, a sweet way to work together and prepare decorations for Christmas. I baked enough walls and roofs for four houses, one for my folks, one for each of my grandmothers to take home, and one for our house. Each of my kids paired up with a grandma, except Jenni. She got stuck with her mom, yours truly. It seemed to be going just as planned. I have pictures of everyone smiling. We licked frosted fingers and nibbled on candy, laughing and having a wonderful time. Then, when Anna and Grandma Erma finished basic construction and started decorating the outside of their house, Erma left the table. She went to the living room and sat in an easy chair.

(My grandma Erma with my daughter Anna)

Maybe she felt tired or bored. Maybe. Or maybe she didn’t like working with a twelve-year-old. Maybe my daughter and Erma had different ideas about decorating. We will never know because she never excused herself or explained why she left the table. Later, when the projects were complete, we took pictures. Erma refused to come and have her photo taken with Anna. My mom felt so sorry for Anna. To top it off, when it came time to send the gingerbread house home with Erma, she flat-out refused the gift—the gift I had prayed about and spent so much time and money preparing, the gift she worked on with her great-granddaughter. My grandma rejected a present intended to bring Christmas cheer to her home.

 “Oh, no, you take it home,” she told me as I offered to take it to her car as she was leaving.

“But Grandma, we already have one,” I explained again.

“Well, Anna can put it in her room. I’d rather not have it, thank you.”

Ouch. I cannot judge Erma’s motives. I’ve already shared a few speculations. I can tell you her actions and words put a damper on the day. We never made gingerbread houses together again. Oh, my kids and I did, and sometimes my mom and Grandma Irène joined us, but not Erma. It never became a Thanksgiving tradition.

On the other hand, Grandma Irène paired up with my youngest, seven-year-old Jon. She kept that gingerbread house displayed in her apartment year-round for several years and bragged about it to everyone. That’s gratitude at its best!

God bless you as you celebrate Thanksgiving in a grand way!

5 Rules of Listening for When We Don’t Like What We Hear

1 Comment / forbearance, grandparenting, Maturity, Trials / By / June 4, 2022 / , , ,

What?!

My daughter’s new boyfriend decided to T.P. our house. We chuckled at his display of affection, but my teenage daughter’s amusement turned to groans as I delegated the clean-up to her. I suggested she recruit the culprit for help.

It helps to think of unwanted advice and criticism as verbal toilet papering. Well-meaning people toss these words our way to show they care. Unfortunately, we’re more inclined to dodge their comments as if they were sticks and stones. While pranksters squander yards of toilet paper, words are only wasted when they fall on deaf ears.

“The ear that hears the rebukes of life will abide among the wise. Whoever ignores instruction despises himself, but he who listens to reproof gains intelligence.” Proverbs 15:31 – 32. Intelligent people consider even unsolicited advice and warnings.

Rule 1. Listen! Instead of deflecting and rejecting unpleasant counsel, let’s hear and understand. Invite the person into the conversation, like I told my daughter to ask her boyfriend to help her clean up. Take time to understand what the other person meant. Sometimes we misinterpret things. What we heard may not be what they said. Even if we find someone’s advice not applicable to our present situation, we may find it helpful in the future. Listening and learning are marks of wisdom.

Rule 2. Listen in Love! “Owe no one anything except to love one another,” Romans 13:8. When someone comes to us with unwanted words (notice I said when not if because it will happen), we owe it to them to treat them in love. “Love is patient, kind, …is not provoked, thinks no evil,…bears all things” (1Corinthians 13:4,5,7), such as hurtful words and annoying advice. How do we want to be received when we share our thoughts with another? Jesus expects us to receive comments from others the way we want our words received.

Rule 3. Listen with Gratitude! “Open rebuke is better than love carefully concealed. Faithful are the wounds of a friend,” Proverbs 27: 5, 6. With friends like that, who needs enemies, right? Wrong! Enemies don’t care. Enemies won’t bother with you. They want to see us fail. The rest of Proverbs 27:6 says, “But the kisses of an enemy are deceitful.” People who tell us we’re fine when we’re not or have an idea how to remedy our problem but don’t tell us are not helpful. Wouldn’t you rather have someone try to help and fail than fail even to try? Be thankful for people who care enough to say something, even if it is the wrong thing.

thanks, word, letters-1804597.jpg

Rule 4. Listen in Humility! I touched on this in the first rule, but it bears deeper consideration. “Hurt does not equal harm” (source unknown). As we read in Proverb 27, wounds from a friend are faithful, not fatal. I know that when my feelings are hurt, it’s usually because my pride is injured. When my feathers get ruffled, I need to pluck them off.

The adage “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me,” was taught to children so that they would learn that being hurt by words is a choice. We can choose not to take offense. We can choose to disregard insults. We can choose to overlook a person’s clumsy attempts to be helpful. But these choices require humility.

Truth spoken in love can hurt. Being told we’re wrong hurts, but pain that prompts us to repent promotes healing. “Yes, all of you be submissive to one another, and be clothed with humility, for “God… gives grace to the humble.” 1Peter 5:5

Rule 5. Listen as a Steward! What do we do with these unpleasant words? We own them for God’s glory. Let’s pray through unwanted words and ask God to show us if there’s any truth in them. Digesting unwanted words in prayer is a lot like eating chicken. Thank God for His provision, then chew the meat and spit out the bones. Like poultry feeds our bodies, listening prayerfully to unwanted counsel will nourish our souls. It may be that the person who spoke to us is God’s messenger, after all.

Gaining a Grand Perspective: Three Questions I’m learning to ask myself

Faith, Family Life, grandparenting, Maturity, Motherhood, Trials / By / July 29, 2021 / , , , ,

Me and My Mini-Me

On Wednesday, July 13, 2011 (ten years ago today), a wee little girl came into the world thirteen weeks too soon. My first grandbaby nudged the scale needle to one pound fifteen ounces. She measured an inch taller than a Barbie doll—a mere13inches.

Agonizing suspense filled the months following her birth as she struggled to survive. The fragility and resilience of life amaze me even more now than then.

Today my first grandchild celebrates her birthday ten years later—strong, healthy, and average in size. You’d never know she started so small. She now enjoys the company of three siblings, and another baby should arrive in November—bringing the total number of children in that household to five.

So far, of my four grown children, only the oldest has kids. But that changes this year; her younger sister expects her first in December. Now, soon to be a grandmother of six with ten years of grandparenting under my belt, I reflect on how this decade shaped my perspectives.

Gaining Insight to Unfading Beauty

The news of my daughter expecting provoked me to reflect on my first memories of my grandmothers. As a child, I thought these women looked old (both were only forty-five when I came into the world). I realized for the first time that another person would see me as an older woman. My grandchildren would only know me with smile lines and silver strands running through my mane.

Only one of my grandmother’s lived long enough to see her great-great-grandchild’s entrance into the world. At the age of three, my granddaughter attended my grandmother’s 100th birthday. I remembered my impressions of my great-grandmothers. They looked ancient. But even though my grandma was now great twice—she looked grand to me.

From my perspective, Grandma appeared more joyful, more loving, more delighted in life than she’d ever been. Yes, she had more wrinkles, and her salt and pepper hair now sparkled like fresh snow. Yet, her love for people and life transformed my understanding of old. Time forges a timeless beauty in those who choose to love and live well to the end.

“Do not let your adornment be merely outward—arranging the hair, wearing gold, or putting on fine apparel— rather let it be the hidden person of the heart, with the incorruptible beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is very precious in the sight of God.” 1 Peter 3:3-4

Which mirror do I spend the most time in, the Bible or the bathroom?

Grasping the Elusiveness of Time

Do you remember turning ten? I remember the wonder of seeing that second digit when I wrote my age. I sensed new liberty—the freedom of being a big kid. I also remember each of my children turning ten.

When my first child turned ten, it felt like a milestone in mothering. When my last child turned ten, it struck me that an era just ended. No longer would babies and preschoolers populate my home (unless the Lord intervened and He did not).

Now my granddaughter joins the double-digit club; I realize decades feel more like days at this point in my life. My promotion from grandma to great-grandma (should the good Lord grant me that privilege) may be as close as a decade away.

When a baby turns one, a year equals one hundred percent of their life. At age ten, twelve months represent ten percent of that life span. When a person reaches sixty (as I have), a year diminishes to less than two percent of your life. Time grows shorter as we grow grand.

In this past decade, both a friend and I had heart attacks. He was four years my junior. Yet, he died. I survived. God determines the number of our days, and no one but God knows how many we will have. Let’s utilize the present well and learn to embrace the time God grants as a gift.

“So, teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” Moses, Psalm 90:12

What’s happening right now, and how can I maximize this very moment?

Taking Nothing For Granted

Before my nest emptied, I took my children’s active presence for granted; after all, we lived together. Often in that busy window of my life, I felt overwhelmed. I just wanted a little me space. Now I have lots. My strong fledglings flew far.

Today they’re scattered from sea to shining sea; one lives close to the Atlantic, another on the Gulf of Mexico, daughter number three in the Pacific Northwest, then Uncle Sam took my one and only son to Gaum. Gathering this far-flung clan takes an act of Providence. Even our best attempts to plan fail at times, like Christmas 2020 when covid prevented our reunion.

My children enjoy visiting with us and each other, and we with them. My daughter and her husband go out of their way to make sure their kids develop a relationship with us. I no longer take their company for granted. It’s a precious, precarious blessing I enjoy.

I’ve lived long enough to know not every family enjoys such relationships. I know casualties of family feuds. I’ve shed tears with women estranged from their offspring, forbidden time with their grandchildren. These women loved God. They loved their families. What happened? Only the Almighty knows.

I’ve seen parents outlive children. We live in a broken world. At my age, I see expectations often result in disappointment. However, flexpectaions free me to enjoy what God grants—even when it’s not what I’d hoped for—like a covid Christmas.

“Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, in everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

What is my response when life doesn’t go as I planned?

Becuase, it often doesn’t.

Young mamas, savor these busy days. Moments evaporate into memories faster than most women forget labor pains.