Nana Mama's Joy

  Forty years ago today, I was sixteen days overdue with my second child. I was still working half days and in the midst of work, a tenth month of pregnancy and a very active 3.5 year old… I managed to whip up a batch of Christmas sweets each day after Thanksgiving. I’d been “nesting” for weeks and having delivered an eleven pound baby boy my last pregnancy (who was 16 days overdue) I was more than ready to get this show on the road. My OB however, had scheduled a ski trip over Thanksgiving and his parting words from my week overdue appointment were “Good luck, unless I see you when I get back, but I highly doubt it.” Don’t doubt a Clouse baby.  It had been 22 months since my Dad passed away. I had actually hoped the baby would be born on his birthday which was November 30 (due date 11/15). If it was a boy, we would (middle) name him after my Dad. I’d had Braxton Hicks contractions since a week before my due date and the evening of the 29th, we went to the hospital (I didn’t c...

Epilogue: The Wife of Noble Character A wife of noble character who can find? Granddad claimed Grandma for his wife, while in their late teens - they were engaged and married within a few short weeks of each turning 20.      She is worth far more than rubies. I don't know that Grandma had any rubies - but one of her treasures was a very unique mother’s ring. It was all shades of blue – Sapphire, two Aquamarine and Turquoise. (The turquoise was within 24 hours be being a Garnet!) Her husband has full confidence in her      and lacks nothing of value . Granddad’s devotion to Grandma was evident and constant for 67 years. They were among the richest people on the planet – because the things most important are priceless. She brings him good, not harm,      all the days of her life. Grandma was a care-taker and Granddad was always well cared for. In sickness and in health – all the days of his life. Sh...

Six weeks ago, I buried my 85 year old mother.  Since then I have observed Easter, her birthday, and this weekend - Mothers Day, all without her.  I know grief is a process and the "first" everything will be difficult.  I lost my father thirty years ago and for years, I was heavy hearted on those occasions when his presence was so sorely missed.       Mom lived with us for a year before going into a care center for the last seven weeks of her life.  She enjoyed living with us - and though it was hard in many ways, we enjoyed having and taking care of her.  When you think of all our parents did to raise us to adulthood - it seems so logical that we should care for them in the winter of their lives. She suffered from dementia which made things difficult sometimes.      We had those last seven weeks to adjust to Mom not being 'here'.  We had rearranged a few things in the basement apartment where she had...

Today was the opening reception for a new academic year at the College where I work. Annually, the faculty, administration and staff gather for introductions of new members of the campus community and the honoring of employees with continuous years of service (five, ten, fifteen, etc.) Every five years (those ending with a 4 or 9) I am among those who are recognized. I receive a beautiful piece of pottery from a well known campus artist, a round of gracious applause from co-workers and a myriad of congratulations following the assembly. I enjoy the 90 minutes (or less) of attention, mostly because I’ve always been told I couldn’t possibly have worked there that long… ‘You look much too young’; ‘Did you start when you were eight?’ Yada yada yada (who wouldn’t enjoy that?) This year, I noted my 35th year of continuous service to the College. Thirty-five years. People still marvel at my longevity – though few accuse me of breaking child labor laws, probably because I have worked more year...

As each year winds down to its final month, I try to take the time to look back upon it and assess the good and bad that has happened during it. What milestones did our family note? What improvements did I make in my home, my relationships, and myself? … Where was it that I missed the mark? …. What could (or should) I do differently next year? This has proven an easy task in 1998, because I have only to open a notebook to review the previous three hundred and thirty some odd days… and the things that happened for which I am grateful. On January 1 of this year, I took an eighty page, wide ruled notebook, wrote the date, the numbers one to five, and beside each number, something that had happened that day for which I was grateful. That day wasn’t too difficult… It was a holiday (no work), I located my bank card that I’d lost while shopping, found some good sales and we gave the 30 day notice to end our paper route! Add to this, my hospitalized brother’s condition was improving… ...

This time of year always finds my "to do" list longer than at any other, and I often wonder if I will get everything done by December 24. The shopping, cooking, cards, decorating, and entertaining (to mention a few) usually find me totally exhausted by the time Christmas actually arrives. I think it's a "woman thing." For centuries, since Mary had her first contractions in a Bethlehem stable - Womankind has felt compelled to labor through the holiday season. Now I admit, my guys will climb the ladder to hang the outdoor lights (in exactly the places I tell them.) And my husband has always stayed up with me past midnight Christmas Eve to wrap the gifts (the job I usually put off). But for most moms, the largest share of holiday planning falls onto their shoulders. Our home, as does many of yours, radiates Christmas! Twinkling lights, evergreens, keepsake decorations, delicious smells and wonderful seasonal sounds permeate the premises. My sons thor...

“And why do you worry about clothes?” That phrase was not posed as a question, but a quote from Matthew 6:28. Centuries ago, Jesus asked a crowd gathered on a mountainside, that very question. And it is the question I ask myself from time to time when I look at my own personal wardrobe. Upon sorting to either end of the closet, the clothes of sentimental value or those I’m waiting to get “back into,” I come face to face with the vast number of garments remaining. Realizing there are only seven days in a week and the human body is capable of wearing only one outfit at a time, why do I behold enough clothing as not to repeat an ensemble for possibly a month? Worse than just the sheer number of hangers, is the fact that a common thread (or fabric, if you will) runs through them. One look at the “indigo” indigenous to my closet tells the cold, hard, truth: I am a denim addict. I don’t know when I first fell into its grip. When I was a child, denim was the material worn by cowboys...