Category: relationships

We Weren’t Good at That

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A continued story…

My Kevin doesn’t “fly off the handle”, and that’s a good thing to know. After our uncomfortable evening driving home in separate cars, he texted me good night as usual. He asked me over for Sunday dinner, which is also a routine we have. But I knew he was thinking things over. 

On Sunday, we had a serious conversation in which he told me he did not feel “equal” to me. When it came to spirituality and faith, he said he probably wouldn’t ever be. I must have mentioned being “unequally yoked” as being one of my concerns at some time. He was getting the point that my faith was the highest priority in my life. He wanted to be honest about how intimidating that felt to him.

I went home in a very somber mood. I decided I couldn’t keep seeing him. I wrote him a letter of explanation, in case I had trouble telling him in person. I asked him to come over the next day. I could tell that he anticipated what I was going to say.

At this point in our relationship we had been dating for nine months. I had so many reasons to love this guy! We had hiked all spring and summer, and helped each other with projects. We had shared dozens of meals, and talked for countless hours. We were going to make Thanksgiving dinner together for our families. We had future plans. We had verbally acknowledged that we liked each other a lot. It was incredibly difficult to give all this up and I cried as I told him my decision. He listened quietly, even patted my hand and told me he knew it was hard. I thought he had come to the same conclusion all by himself. We said goodbye, and he left. 

It turns out that we weren’t very good at breaking up. I became aware of how much I missed him almost from the start. I knew how happy I had been lately, and how sad I was going to be. It was a relief when we started finding small ways to check on each other. I began to hope we would still be friends. It took us a little over a week. By Thanksgiving evening, while talking on the phone, we agreed that what we had done wasn’t working at all. We were done with the misery, because we could be. It wasn’t a hard decision.

Are we “unequally yoked” in our faith? Even more than me, Kevin has always thought that it was more than chance that we met. He does have faith that God can plan relationships between people for their good. We have talked about how God has shown up for us at different times in our lives. My upbringing has blessed me with more biblical literacy than his, but that is not what faith is about. There were a lot of biblical literate people around in Jesus’ day too. Jesus preferred fishermen who had faith in Him. 

In our case, I believe Kevin and I have differences. But it would be foolish to think that God is done with either one of us. I hadn’t asked God for another love relationship and hadn’t expected one. I know I could go without one if that’s what God wanted for me. So, Kevin coming along has been a real surprise to me, at times a little scary. I’ve prayed about it from the start.  I also feel a somewhat miraculous plan behind what we have. God started something, and unless He stops it, I’m in it. I believe that God is actively planning my future, and Kevin’s part in it. I know it’s going to be interesting to see what He does with our differences. 

There will be more about my man, Kevin. I have so many stories…

Traveling Together

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Here I am again, and it’s only been four months since I last wrote. I think about doing it a lot but I have the habit of doing other things instead. In the business of recording my life, I’m uncomfortable with these large gaps. Winter of 2026 is a good time to catch up. Being home recovering from Norovirus gives me more than the usual time to do it. 

It seems that my life, lately, has centered around three main issues; my man, my book, my family. I will start with my man, Kevin. I had heard that you can learn a lot about a person by traveling with them. That is why I had invited Kevin to join me in North Carolina. I have to say that this trip did not disappoint.

On our hike in Clifty State Park, Madison IN, with the Ohio river in the background.

We did well while staying with Julie. We did well traveling in the car to Indiana. Everyone has their own style of travel and we matched pretty well. I was excited to show Kevin my cousin’s beautiful hotel on the Ohio river (Fairfield Inn, Madison IN). I had booked a room there for him, while I stayed at Marlene’s house. We spent an extra day there and took an eventful hike at Clifty State Park. I could write a whole story on that hike, but not now. 

The last day of the trip was to the Wisconsin airport where he had left his truck. Toward the end of this time, we talked about our relationship. One or the other of us will often put the invitation out there – “what are you thinking?” It’s one of the things I admire about Kevin. He actually has reflected on our relationship and will talk about what he thinks. 

I had some questions about intimacy, partly because doing a trip together has a definite feeling of intimacy. Even aside from sexuality, there’s all that time in the car, learning each other’s tolerance for bathroom stops and hunger needs, what to listen to on the radio… it’s a lot. But we hadn’t really talked about the sexual aspects. We hadn’t shared a room, or a bed and I had sensed there was tension surrounding that. 

Kevin and I come from somewhat different cultures. The bottom line in my upbringing is no sex outside of the marriage covenant. In his, marriage is important, but not as necessary if there is commitment expressed. I think what I asked him was, “Are you just waiting, and expecting that I will soon change my beliefs about marriage and sleep with you?” He thought for a moment and answered “yes”. 

Looking back, I think he heard the “are you waiting” part, and of course he was waiting. I was concerned about the “are you waiting for me to change” part, and that was not going to happen. I also added that if a sexual relationship was his primary goal, he should probably go find someone else to pursue it with, asap. My hurt was that he apparently did not respect my faith held views on a Godly marriage. His hurt was that I would so easily reject him. 

And so began our first real crisis. It didn’t feel like an argument, really. It felt more like an ultimatum.There was no shouting or other meanness, but things did get really quiet. Fortunately we were at the airport. We finished the last hour of our trip in separate cars trying to process what had just happened. It was only the beginning of what we would learn.

Riverbend Farm, Day 8

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For the next few posts I will be writing about two people with the same first name, Kevin. To avoid confusion I will refer to my Kevin (Kevin May) and the other Kevin (Kevin Shanahan or Julia’s Kevin). I may occasionally call them Kevin M and Kevin S.

Yesterday I made the trip to Raleigh/Durham airport to pick up my Kevin and fetch him back to the farm. He met the Shanahans last August when they visited Hayward, but their time with him was brief. I reintroduced him to the family and gave him a walking tour of the house, barns, property and our Haw River trails. It was gorgeous weather. We hadn’t been together for a while, except on the phone, so there was catching up to do. 

I have been helping Julia with the evening meals while here, so I enlisted my Kevin’s help in the kitchen. I think the hardest thing about mealtime is deciding what to make. Kevin has an idea for almost any kind of meat, so I was glad to hear what he would do with the several pounds of chicken breast in the fridge. We had a pretty decent dinner ready when Julie got home from work. Kevin S, his daughter Reagan and son Camden (aka Bubba), Gwennie, Julia, Keven M and I all sat down around the dining table and had dinner at the same time. I only mention this because it doesn’t happen a lot for various reasons. It was nice. 

My Kevin has been making inroads with Gwennie, big time. For some reason, unknown to any of us, she has decided to call him Mr. Jim. It’s okay—I had been wondering what she should call him. I really didn’t want her to think all grown men were called Kevins. He made the astute move of calling up “Itsy Bitsy Spider” on his phone. That was followed by “No More Monkeys Jumping on the Bed” and “Twinkle, Twinkle”. Her fascination with screens is very evident and her memory is great. She now asks Mr. Jim to play songs on his phone every time she sees him. 

My daughter Julia has always been great at making lists of stuff she wants done. Last Tuesday, on her day off, we rode around the farm in the mule. We made lists of everything that needed to be done. She says we need lists so that we’ll know what to do when we have a spare minute. After seeing the list I was pretty sure there wouldn’t be any spare minutes, ever. It’s a farm. Farms are where things go to break, deteriorate and sometimes die. Except for brush, weeds and thorns which seem to thrive remarkably well. 

My Kevin doesn’t like to be a freeloader. Today we looked at the list and chose a job to do which we didn’t think would be too difficult. I take that back. I have no idea why we chose that job. We decided to clear the weeds from around some piles of stacked black walnut lumber. 

This valuable lumber had been drying in the open for quite a while and needed to be protected. The plan was to re-stack it under a large semi trailer close by. Many of the slabs were two inches thick and very heavy. They were stacked on pallets that had rotted. High grass and evil thorny vines were all around them, but we conquered. We weed whacked, raked, and made a huge burn pile with all the bark and waste wood. We are tired but quite satisfied with our work. Welcome to North Carolina, Kevin M. 

Fortunately we put dinner in the crock pot before we went out to tackle lumber piles. Tonight we are having beef/ barley/vegetable stew and some good looking cheesy bread we picked up at Publix this morning. We will probably be having Ibuprofen for dessert. 

So, on to the weekend. The weather is still looking good and I’m hoping for a nice walk in a nearby park. 

Wood we saved. Some slabs were actually 3 inches and as long as the trailer was wide.
The burn pile.
I spent a lot of time under this trailer today. Shady and cool.

Helping and Being Helped: the Equation

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I do not know if helpee is a word, but its meaning is pretty clear when I combine it with helper, right? These two positions are inseparable, and sometime in life, most of us will get a chance to experience both of them.

Recently, an elderly neighbor who had lost her husband, and her beloved dog decided that she had to have another dog to keep her company. She found a retriever mix in a shelter and brought it home. The trouble started when she found it was difficult to walk the dog. She was having trouble with her back and it was easy for all of us neighbors to see it when we watched her walk. I love to walk, so I offered to walk the dog for her.

My friend Shasta was always happy to accept a walk.

She accepted help, because she had to, for the dog’s sake. But, because it made her feel like she owed me something, she was always rewarding me with money, gift cards, pie, when a simple “thank you” would have done. She was not going to be beholden. Her independent spirit would not allow it. She had not yet learned to be a gracious helpee.

One day she fell and had to call 911. Even though she spent a couple days in the hospital, the doctors couldn’t identify what was wrong and she was sent home to wait for test results. She fell again. This time she didn’t want to return to the hospital, so she didn’t call 911. She stayed on the floor for quite a long time until she was able to reach a family member. She ended up going to the hospital anyway. She will now have to go through a couple months in a rehab facility to regain the ability to walk.

I admire an independent spirit. I am all for people taking care of themselves and their own business for as long as possible. But I wrestled with my neighbor’s attitude toward receiving help when she really needed it, when it was offered with no strings attached.

I came one morning to walk the dog and she told me she had not slept well at all the previous night. Her bedroom smoke alarm started beeping because of low battery and drove her nearly crazy. I offered to do that quick and easy chore for her. No, she said. She didn’t have any new batteries. I told her I had a lot of batteries and would be right back with one. No, she said. She would have her grandson attend to it that evening. By this point in our relationship I was used to being a little aggressive, so I told her it would drive me crazy if I had to listen to that noise all day – I was going to change it for her. No, she said. She was going to stay in the living room, with the TV on, so she wouldn’t hear it. Her grandson would fix it later. No, no, no. Don’t help me.

Sometimes, the idea that we are bothering someone, or that we will owe them something keeps us from accepting reasonable help. In the end we can cause more trouble and frustration for those who want to help. It caused a lot of trouble for my friend’s family, who had to respond to her second emergency at an unexpected time.

My new theory is that we are all here to learn two things during our lifetime. The first is that we should care about others, learn to serve graciously, and love one another. The second is that we are all going to find ourselves helpless, at the end of our rope, not in charge, and in need. We will need to graciously admit that fact. Do you see it? Helpers and helpees… If helpers have no one to help, they can’t learn the first lesson. If helpees have no one caring for them, they don’t learn the second lesson.

Gracious acceptance of help is a hard lesson, one I am not eager to learn. But, I have given it a lot of thought lately, and because of this experience, my attitude toward being helped is changing. I want to be gracious, when the time comes.

Which of these lessons is hardest for you? Have you had to accept help? How did it make you feel? What roles do pride and humility have in this equation?

A to Z Challenge: Todd

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This character sketch is not fictional. Todd was real and although I have trouble remembering some of the details, this is my best recollection.

It feels right to use his real name. Todd is no longer with us. He left far too early. Everyone at the service was aware of that reality, and the church was full. This is only part of his story, but it’s the part I know best.

I first saw Todd in our backyard, at night, in the back row of people gathered around a small bonfire. He was part of the youth group that was re-enacting the experience of the persecuted church. They had come, one or two at a time, being very quiet and trying not to attract attention. It was my first witness of Todd’s faith and his willingness to express it. He was not the average young person there.

My husband started talking with Todd that night, and he started appearing at our home. He was a football player in a high school nearby, but was also a serious enough student to want to do well academically. My husband had taught math and sciences and Todd wanted help from time to time. He would appear after practice, around supper time, but wouldn’t come to eat. It took a few years until he felt comfortable going into the refrigerator or joining us at the table. He was extremely polite and unassuming. Gradually he began to feel more like one of the family.

There were quite a few people who saw a promising character in Todd. His high school coach, youth leaders, families like ours and friends. He wanted to overcome a troubled background, and he was doing it.

Todd did well in school and was something of a celebrity at graduation time. He was accepted at a state university, recruited to play football and declared a double major in social work and criminal justice. On breaks and in the summer he would come back to the hometown and work, stopping in to see us (or to do laundry). Like any young person going to college, he needed money and other kinds of support. My husband and I felt almost like proud parents when Todd graduated college and invited us to the ceremony.

Todd and another friend (Carroll) stopped by for dinner. A normal sized man fit neatly under Todd’s arm. He was quite a presence.

After his team won the national college football championship Todd played NFL football for the Titans and the Packers but was plagued with injuries. He finally left the sports scene and came back to our hometown. He had a heart for youth programs, coaching and motivational speaking. He desperately wanted to be a role model for young men.

As I think over our time with Todd, what I see that he was trying to find was family structure. He was looking for a father and a family, a place where he belonged that didn’t depend on his physical or academic skills. He loved being able to come to us whether he was expected or invited. He would sit and talk with my husband for hours into the night. When his back was against the wall financially he wanted someone to care enough to help. He wanted a place to leave his “stuff” in between jobs and residences. He wanted a safe place to come when he was sad or disappointed. He wanted someone to listen to his news when it was good and be glad with him, and someone to listen when it wasn’t good.

Todd didn’t tell us he wasn’t feeling well. I don’t think he was aware of how serious a problem he was experiencing. He was found dead in his apartment at the age of 35. We weren’t blood relatives and had no access to results of the autopsy, but to our knowledge it was not drug related. That would not have been in his nature. God gave us a lot to think about through our relationship with Todd, and we are grateful for the time he was in our life.

Reflections on the Death of an Unusual Friend

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I was sitting by myself, in a Cracker Barrel restaurant, on Thanksgiving. My favorite family holiday was anything but that in 2011. I was having dinner and writing my first post on this blog. I was in Atlanta, on the job as a private duty nurse for my client who was a quadriplegic. It was the most miserable job I had ever taken, and writing out my misery was comforting.

Scottie was an unforgettable client. She had a diving accident in her early 20’s that ended her career as a flight attendant and changed her life drastically. In fact it changed many lives, because she went through the years having a marked effect upon her family and all her caregivers and friends. Being so vulnerable and helpless was not easy for Mary Scott Stoddard, or Scottie, as we all called her.

I found Scottie’s ad on Craig’s List of all places. I was needing a job to help my daughter Julia through veterinary school and was having trouble finding one. Even though I’d taken a refresher course, the hospital had passed me over and hired new grads instead of older nurses, like me. I was pretty desperate to get something so I went to the interview even though the salary was low, even though she was really wanting an LPN, even though I would have to drive out to Longboat Key to work.

It turned out that she was glad to hire me. She was in the habit of losing nurses, about one a month, and had gone through lots of them. Word was out there about how difficult an employer she was. The nurse who oriented me was an LPN, working on her BSN, and she hardly ever got a day off and even did some nights because there was no one else. It was a pattern I came to expect over the next six years as I became the senior employee who oriented new people.

I could go on at length about what made Scottie a difficult employer, and I did do a lot of venting in my writing. But I have since spent more time being grateful for the unique experience I had in her employ. Where else would my job description have included trapping raccoons, taking carriage driving lessons, and traveling to Nova Scotia? Our many trips to Atlanta and north Georgia were filled with interesting stops and people. We spent time at Bluegrass festivals and the North Georgia fair. We stopped for fresh peaches in the early summer and apples in the fall. She loved music, so we went to concerts. She loved the inter coastal waterway so we went out in her pontoon boat. She shared her Longboat Key cottage with me when I had family come to visit.

Scottie and I had adventures. Getting a quadriplegic with tons of luggage, two wheelchairs and a Hoyer lift on a commercial airline flight was uniquely stressful. Stopping the van on the side of the road to handle a medical emergency with her was uniquely stressful. Spending nights during hurricanes in her home, with water lapping the floorboards beneath my bed was uniquely stressful. The adrenalin rush of unique stress is about the same as the rush during excitement, and the years have blurred the line. I now think of those times as having been exciting.

I think Scottie got used to me praying for her, especially during those times of crisis when we didn’t know what to do. She even began to ask for it, and to do her own praying. And I think she would say that we got a lot of our prayers answered. Scottie died a couple of weeks ago, at her home, on a ventilator, feeding tube and IV’s. I’m sure it wasn’t an easy ending but she was ready to stop suffering.

Today, I know that the difficult years with Scottie provided me with two things. They gave me income to help a daughter through veterinary school, which was the goal at the time. But they also prepared me for the present time with my husband. I would not have had the experience and the confidence to bring him home, had it not been for the things I learned caring for Scottie. His physical care is almost the same as hers was. I could not have foreseen that part, but I believe that God knew and was even then putting things in place to help us through this difficult time.

Thank you God. And thank you Scottie. May you rest in God’s peace.

Zarf: Okay, what?

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The last post of the 2022 A to Z Challenge is always welcome in my world because posting for 26 nearly consecutive days is truly a challenge. My Z word today doesn’t have a direct link to my theme of relationship building, but then most of the other words weren’t direct links either. But here’s the final, true thing – because relationship with others and with God are the most important things in my life, almost everything in life becomes indirectly linked to those priorities.

I attribute many things which others call coincidences, or serendipitous moments, to God and his desire to give me a smile, a laugh or a touch of some kind. I happened to be looking at this scene in Julia’s kitchen on the day that I was searching for a post on Z.

Zarf, the little metal handle and the ring attached to it at the bottom. Top left corner, some extra zarfs, or maybe zarves. I don’t know.

A few minutes later I came upon the word zarf and realized I was looking at one and never knew what it was called. It brought to mind the many times Julia had made an espresso or latte for me and how I had enjoyed holding my zarf while talking with her.

I don’t know how it came about that someone initially roasted a coffee bean and soaked it in hot water. It seems that ever since coffee has had some kind of crazy hold on civilization. I’ve read a lot of stories about pioneer days in our country, how they were ALWAYS making coffee on their cookstoves or over their campfires. If you had nothing else, you had coffee, and maybe biscuits.

Our family has many people who enjoy coffee, and more than a few who might be called fanatics. Some go for the fancy, expensive kind from the shops that abound in our towns and cities. Most are content with a cup of plain, good tasting brew. I have to admit that coffee is a standard, a hub of our social gatherings. That is the indirect link to relationship building.

Mmm, hmm.

Rarely do any of us refuse a cup of coffee and a donut, or a homemade cookie. This beverage accompanies the best of conversations. Some of us feel secretly linked by our love of coffee. Coffee rituals abound. We have our favorite cups and we have signs on our kitchen walls, clever coffee quotes on our T-shirts. It’s okay. It’s even fine if someone wants to drink tea instead of coffee, as long as they don’t tell anyone what’s in their cup.

Mom, Julie, coffee
Esther, Mom, coffee (donut)
Birthday coffee and candle
Coffee with real Half ‘n Half (for snobs)
Coffee in special cup, special place
(Sshh, it’s tea).

So, here’s a toast to that hot, fragrant, brown drink in the clear glass held by a zarf, and to the many relationships furthered by “coffee time”. (And to the end of the 2022 A to Z Blogging Challenge!)

Yard Work: Joining in Builds Relationship

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This one is short. I’m getting tired but there’s only one more letter left!

They say it – the family that works together, stays together. (Did I get that right? Maybe not.). At the very least, the family that has built lasting, enjoyable relationships always wants to help each other with their yard work.

Whether it’s digging up dandelions, collecting dog poop, putting markers on redbud trees so they don’t get cut down, or pulling out vast amounts of invasive English ivy, I have done it. In my daughter’s yards. Happy to help.

After all, when I am visiting the girls during their busy work weeks, I am free during the day and looking for things to do. They are usually distressed by yard work that they haven’t been able to get done. I love being outside so it seems a win/win situation for me to be working in the yard.

It gives me a chance to take part in improvements they’ve done over the years. I get an odd sense of “ownership” in saying “I planted that flower”, or “I trimmed that tree for you last summer”. I think they would say they have loved that part of my work ethic too.

Now trying to keep hubby from chopping down these pretty pink trees
I helped plant these flowers, yes I did.
Julia rented for a few years. I think we made it kind of charming.
Enjoying the yard in Seattle
Yard work and yard enjoyment over the years

To build a relationship well, I am willing to join them in work that needs to be done. I might need a day or two to be on vacation myself, but that gets old pretty quick, and I have always found other people’s work to be more fun than my own (although I love my own yard work too).

At the end of the day, it is so satisfying to be relaxing in a nice yard that’s had a little love, and to be enjoying it with the people I love. Sweet, just sayin’…

Xenophile: Sharing Passions Builds Relationships

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I was delighted to find this word describing a common trait that I share with my daughters, one which has been built especially into my relationship with daughter Julia. Both of my girls have traveled and experienced foreign cultures and love doing that, as do I. We love exploring, talking to people and learning how we are all similar, and how our lives are different. That’s basically what a xenophile is – a person who loves foreign people and their cultures.

Me, dressed for riding the tuk tuk through the city.

The foreign part of the world that I have the most experience with is Southeast Asia, Cambodia in particular. I have taken four trips of about two weeks each time and have made many personal friends, most of them in PhnomPenh. I was so moved by the people and their way of life that I had to take Julia there, so she could experience it too.

Julia loves these kids, they love her too.

While there, our mission was to spend time with the staff and children of Asia’s Hope, an organization providing stable homes for orphans and at risk children. In a country where it is common for people in poverty to “sell” a child into slavery of one kind or another, in order to make ends meet, Asia’s Hope is committed to finding these kids and rescuing them. They are a Christian organization and want to teach children that God loves and values them, even when other people don’t. They place 20 to 25 children in a home with indigenous house parents who will raise them to college age and beyond. They will live out biblical principles and equip the children to be leaders in their own country. It is a beautiful model and it works.

So, the love part – what won me over? I can list a few of the many, many experiences that did the trick.

– arriving at the Phnom Penh airport late at night and finding the house parents and dozens of the kids waiting to greet us, grab our bags and put them in vans and get us to our lodgings.

I’m in there, the only white haired person you can pick out…

– being invited to their homes for meals highlighting their cuisine but also giving us something familiar (they learned fried chicken and spaghetti quite easily).

Their preferred “table”. They were kind enough to make sure we had chairs.

– visiting in their asian style kitchens, while the moms, cooks and older girls cooked on charcoal grills while squatting on the floor (so amazing!)

– playing games with the children outside, sitting with them inside while they overwhelmed us with laughter and hugs

PhnomPenh Riverside Park
Craft day making bracelets
Just sitting around joking and talking
Fun with the children

– enjoying outings to the city market where each child thoughtfully chose how to spend five dollars on something they needed with no complaining or arguing.

Of course I am not in this picture because I am taking the picture.
With PE4 after a successful shopping trip. I made it into this picture, again the odd one with very white hair.

– watching them enjoy a rare trip to a pizza restaurant where dozens of wings and pizzas disappeared, again with nothing but smiles and happiness.

Pizza night, and I am given a flower for my hair…
Oh, and there was birthday cake for all to share.

– hearing their delight in learning English words and phrases, and more laughter as they listened to us trying to learn Khmer words from them

– experiencing firsthand their simple, strong faith and how content they are with so little

Baptism day at the hotel pool
Gathering for church service

– and over the years, seeing them learn and grow, graduate high school and go on to university (so rare in their country).

My contact list has almost more Asian friends than American ones and my Facebook messages are filled with pictures from those beautiful friends in that exciting, culturally different but much loved country. I am suffering from xenomania. I am a xenophile.

There is love that is bigger than feelings or circumstances.

Whale Watching: Something Different Builds Relationship

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We had traveled north from San Juan Island in a boat that comfortably held the seven of us. We went at a good clip past numerous islands with rocky outcroppings, our guide pointing out landmarks here and there. We crossed into Canadian waters, into the Strait of Georgia and slowed as we drew near a gathering of other boats. We were whale watching, and our guide had heard via his radio that there was a sighting. A known pod of orcas was close by. It was an exciting adventure for us, one we won’t forget.

What does it have to do with building relationships, you might ask? A lot.

A few years earlier, youngest daughter met a man worth getting to know better, she reported. I think they must have been at that stage when a couple starts wondering whether their parents might like each other, and wouldn’t that be nice if they did. His parents had been watching the relationship develop between their son and our daughter and were evidently as curious about us as we were about them. They invited my husband and I to visit their home on San Juan Island in the Pacific northwest. I had been to Seattle before but I had not been north to Vancouver or Canada at all, and I had never been whale watching. On one of the days of our visit they arranged this great outing with a captain friend who knew how to give a great ride.

Getting the boat ready
Rugged, beautiful scenery
I have to see a whale
Orcas

Our kids have family instincts. They naturally gravitate toward close, happy family units. It matters to them that, if at all possible, the people who are important to them, like each other and are capable of getting along and having fun together. This weekend was the perfect test.

We had a wonderful time, and in learning a little about Ryan’s parents, I was also learning things about Ryan. In learning more about Ryan, I was also learning things about my daughter Esther. My husband and I were building relationships with Esther, with Ryan and with his parents as we spent time together doing interesting things over that weekend.

I’ve also had a wonderful time meeting Julia’s in-law family. Getting to know and like them was interesting for many reasons, particularly because her mother-in-law and I are both named Shirley. We both played piano, we were both in a caretaking role for our mothers. We both had severe arthritis in the same thumb, had both been wearing a very distinct, not common brace for years and she was able to encourage me to get the surgical fix that she had just successfully gone through. I think there were other similarities that I can’t remember now. It was uncanny. It created a nice start to our relationship, which has continued.

Our relationships with both of these families was very important to us and our girls as they went through the stress of planning and holding weddings during the pandemic. Talk about bonding experiences… weddings will do that, and in such a memorable (and nice) way.

One way of staying close to my adult children has been getting to know the people in their lives. It started in play groups when they were very young. It continued through the school years when I wanted to know their friends, their teachers, who they played music with, who was in their youth group or on sports teams with them. And now, look where it ended up – watching whales in the Strait of Georgia. Two good words that both begin with W. Isn’t life interesting? Just saying…