07 Aug Heaven Right Here on Earth
Ruth and I had been relishing in our first empty-nest experience for the past few months. This past weekend the nest was anything but empty.
For the first time in six years all of our children and grandchildren were together. Just a couple of years ago the five “kids” were spread between Rexburg, Denver, St. Louis, Anchorage and London, and it appeared that they might just continue to drift further apart. Skype was the primary means of keeping contact with our son in chiropractic college and our daughter in Europe, but it just wasn’t the same.
Only recently our children and their spouses have congregated in Utah and Idaho, making this reunion much easier to manage.
But it was a hectic weekend. Saturday we led a frantic caravan to the river for family pictures, our first in many years. (We tried once two Christmas’ ago in St. Louis. We have visual record of all the grandchildren crying, pleading to get out of the cold, but none of those are hanging on the living room wall.) I really don’t like to have my picture taken; it tends to look too much like me. But for over an hour I forgot my own self-consciousness and reveled in seeing all of our kids and their spouses laughing and coaxing smiles out of their nieces and nephew as much as their own children.
Afterward it was out to the back yard, where Ruth and I made seventeen pizzas in the wood-fired oven. She had the hard job, stretching dough and filling requests; I just keep the fire going and make sure the pizza comes out before it gets scorched. Afterward “Grandma” taught the young ones how to roast marshmallows just right to make s’mores.
Sunday morning I made “æbleskiver”—little round Danish treats—for breakfast while Ruth made the best cupcakes ever. (Yes, I forgot it was Fast Sunday; I was just too excited to share this family tradition that I lost track of the date.) Then we caravanned to church for the event that brought us all together, the blessing of Chris and Rachel’s daughter, Laura.
We zipped right home again; forty guests were coming to lunch and there was a lot to be done. It was pretty chaotic as people were fed and messes cleaned up.
Throughout it all our daughters and daughters-in-law talked with one another about what was happening in their lives, and what they had planned. I heard one offer gentle advice and encouragement regarding an area in which she has much experience while others have much anxiety. Sons and son-in-law talked about hobbies, jobs and interests.
As the evening came on, kids were eventually settled down to bed with only minimal injuries. Photo albums were dragged out as evidence of what someone really did or looked like at some point in time. Our oldest daughter, Danielle pointed out family resemblances and commented on how cute her nieces and nephews are. Her husband, Josh, commented on the beautiful photo albums Ruth had lovingly made for each child: “This is a lost art.” As I looked over their shoulders it occurred to me that I was watching something beautiful.
It was hard to go to bed Sunday night. Despite being physically tired I didn’t want it to be over. The next morning they would begin returning to their respective homes, though the miles between them and us would be measured in hundreds and not thousands.
As I write this I think perhaps I am catching a glimpse of what heaven must be. It is not my children gathered around me in adoration. It is watching each, in turn, leaving home to create his or her own little family, loving and nurturing their spouses while ushering in the next generation. But in so doing they have not forgotten the ones with whom they shared their own growing-up experiences. Heaven is seeing the ones I love loving one another.
This weekend was a lot of work. But it makes me feel so very good about the work in which Ruth and I have been engaged these (almost) thirty years.