A Night To Remember

Do you ever leaf through a book and sneak a peak at the ending before you buy it?  Normally I try not to do that.  But recently I had an experience that made me wonder how our lives might be different if we could get a glimpse of the ending a little earlier on.

It’s a night I will always remember: a retirement party for my husband, Woody.  First, there was the shock that it was even happening.   We’ve been married 44 years (!) and medicine has always been a central part of our lives.  When we got married, Woody had just finished his first year of medical school.  Woody has been a physician now for 41 years, and a medical oncologist for 34 of those years. And he has loved it all. Despite long hours, weekends on call, and life with the ever-present beeper, he has loved being an oncologist.  Walking alongside cancer patients—both the living and the dying—has been not only a sacred privilege, but a calling.

So I wondered if he would ever retire.  To my astonishment, he did.  Which led to one of the most memorable nights of my life.  For the first time in our 44 years together, I was privileged to be in a room with scores of his patients.  For several hours, patients lined up to say “thank you.” They were young and old, black and white and Hispanic, some healthy at this moment and others not-so-healthy.  And they brought with them their families and friends.  There were young children and grateful parents and loving care-givers.

They all came to say “thank you.” Thank you for walking alongside me.  Thank you for caring. Thank you for giving me hope. Thank you for five more anniversaries—and that I got to see my son graduate, my daughter get married, and the birth of my grandson. There were hundreds of hugs—and plenty of tears. It was moving beyond words.

Many of them also sought me out in the crowd to say thank you.  Thank you for sharing your husband. Thank you for supporting him in those long hours he must have been away for home.  Thank you to your kids for sharing their dad. Several children of one patient even asked what they could do for our family to say thank you for saving their mom’s life.

I looked around and thought, “Wouldn’t it be great if I could have gotten a glimpse of this now and then over the years?”  In my head I always knew that it was worth it—the long hours, the weekends on call, the evenings filled with prepping charts for the next day. But how my heart burst when I saw the other side of the story. “Worth it” took on a whole new level of meaning.

Wouldn’t it be great if each of us could see the “other side” of our husband’s careers?  I know it’s more dramatic with some careers then others. When I commented to one patient that it was great that so many had come to the party, he responded: “Yeh, isn’t it great?  We’re all here—and we’re all alive!” A career in oncology is a special kind of thing.  But there are people on “the other side” of every career.  Maybe it would help to think of them more often when your husband comes home late, has to work over a weekend, or can’t be home with you every time he’d like.  Just a thought.

It was an evening I’ll never forget.  It made me want to say “thank you.”  Not only thank you to those who gave the party and the patients who came.  But thank you to Woody for the huge respect and admiration I have for him.  Somehow, by God’s grace, he has managed to be not only an extraordinary husband—my best friend, and a wonderful father—but he has also lived out his professional calling in ways that have changed lives, given hope to the hopeless, and glorified God.  I’m thankful to have been a part of it.

Most of all, thank you to God.  Thank you for calling Woody to such a high and holy profession. Thank you for giving him the strength to live out his calling so faithfully. Thank you for giving me grace, flawed as I am, to support him on the homefront.

And thank you, God, for a good ending.  As we turn the page from this chapter to the next—the one with a lot of blank pages—I’m so thankful that the same Author writes the script.  Let the adventure continue!

The Gift of Time

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about time.  For one thing, where has the summer gone?  Can it really be August? And then there’s the Olympics.  Are you as fascinated by the incredible feats of those marvelous athletes as I am?  Think of the time—hours and days, months and years—these men and women have put in prior to that one race in the pool, that one gymnastics routine.  And then it is all decided in moments—seconds, actually.  How many medals have been lost to another competitor by one hundredth of a second?

But most of all this summer I’ve been thinking of the gift of time.  Specifically, the gift of more time with two of my grandchildren than I’ve ever had before.  Erika and Richie and their 3 ½-year-old Gabriella and 11-month-old Judah lived with us for 6 ½ weeks from mid-June through July.  What a gift that was!

It gave me opportunity to enjoy everyday moments with them.   Not just family outings, carnival rides, exploratory walks, or a dip in the lake.  Not just summer fun riding horseback at the Children’s Museum, splashing in the little backyard pool, and making 4^th of July Little Cheesecakes.  But also just watching.  Watching Judah learn to crawl, build with with blocks, or play who-gets-the-spoon over breakfast.  Watching Gabriella feed her mom’s old Teddy Ruxpin, goof around over breakfast—or just wake up in the morning with all her friends.   Moments in time.  Memories made.

I savored every one of these memories.  Nanas get to do that.  There’s not so much time the first time around, when you’re raising your own little ones.  But it did make  me think of all of you.  Every one of you moms for whom summer may be flying by—or feeling like forever.  Every one of you Nanas who may be enjoying similar moments with your grandchildren.

Wherever this summer may find you—savoring or maybe just merely “surviving” (there are all these different moments in a mom’s life, aren’t there?)—I pray that you may take just a few moments to look at the faces before you.  Like Emily in the play Our Town, look at them like you really see them.   And now and then in your busy life, pause and take a snapshot—with a camera, or even with just your memory.  A moment in time.  A gift.  Thank you, God, for the gift of time.

Welcome to a new grandson

He's here!   Praise God with us for a new grandson!  Judah Anderson Cronin was born in Dublin, Ireland, at 12:33 am on Saturday August 27, just 33 minutes into his due date.  Mommy, Daddy, and big sister Gabriella are doing well.  And Nana is loving getting acquainted with Judah as well as playing with Gigi (Gabriella's nickname)  while mommy is busy with the new baby. His name means "I will praise the Lord," and that's just what we're doing.  Please join us!

Life as a Real Mom: How Do You Do It?

A couple of weeks ago my husband Woody and I had the great joy of taking care of our two grandsons, Soren (4 ½) and Nils (14 mos) for a week while their parents were taking kids to Young Life camp.  It was a great refresher course in parenting.  We had a blast.  Really—it was so much fun!

I wish I could tell you more, but I have to be honest here: I had anticipated coming home with a notebook full (or at least a head full) of hilarious comments and antics and incidents with which I could entertain blog readers.  I thought this to be a realistic expectation.  Soren frequently says absolutely hilarious things.  He has a vivid imagination, a memory that is positively scary, and he is very verbal.  Nils is a clown.  He loves to get you laughing, and he mimics everything he sees his big brother do, which leads to some pretty funny entertainment.

But here’s the glitch.  Life moved too fast for me that entire week.  I never got to write anything down.  Not even a list for each day (my usual practice)—and certainly not witty sayings or doings in the small journal I had (how hilarious!) brought.  Both my daytimer and my journal are completely blank for that week.  Most of the time I think my mind was, too!

We did all kinds of fun things: we went to playgrounds; visited a children’s museum;  played pirates in the basement (Woody and Soren did, anyway—I was a little worried about Nils around the pirate sword); went out to lunch one day and out on another day for ice cream; even had a visit from a friend who surprised the boys with a new scooter for Soren and a push-trike for Nils.  And yes—we made a visit or two to the pediatrician.  I told you this was a refresher course on real-life parenting.  How could it not involve middle-of-the-night fevers and unexplained crying?

But here’s the thing: I had expected a break in the action now and then.  A time to reflect a bit.  Take a deep breath.  Write down a few of the wonderful things my grandsons did—and there were many!  But all I did was take a nap when they napped—and collapse on the couch after they went to bed.  Even though we were two-on-two (two adults there full-time, two kids), Woody and I pretty much just sat side by side and stared into space every evening.

So here’s my question for the week.  How do you keep your life balanced during these busy busy years?  Do you find time to do anything—anything at all—beyond the absolute necessities of each day?  If so, what’s your secret?

Don’t get me wrong: What you’re doing each day for and with your kids is huge—the best job in the world.  Feeding, rocking, changing, bathing, and playing with your kids is a huge accomplishment in itself.  In fact, if you wrote it all down on a “To Do” list, you’d be pretty impressed. (As recommended on my friend Jill Savage’s blog post the other day—great idea!)  I loved getting to do all that again.

But I seem to remember that when I had three pre-schoolers, I did manage—at least now and then—to read a book, complete my Bible Study lesson (some weeks), and find a few words left for my husband (on a good day) when he came home late at night.  I’m trying to remember: How did I do it?

Can you remind me?  I know many of your days feel like sheer survival.  But I also know some of you actually do read books, find time for personal devotions, blog, facebook with friends—at least now and then.  I even know some of you who are crafty and actually make things after your kids go to bed (quite beyond me even now, I must admit)!

So I’d love to hear from you.  What tips can you share about how you find time to create balance even in the midst of your mom-life?  Or maybe how you come to peace about not doing that right now!

Don’t forget: We’ll have a giveaway for two tickets to the .MOM conference in September from all of those who comment here by Thursday noon, July 28.  We look forward to hearing from you!

My Family an Idol?

Recently I’ve been reading a great book by Tim Keller called Counterfeit Gods.  I highly recommend it.

It’s gotten me thinking about all kinds of idols that we manage to make for ourselves.    Money can become an idol.  Or success.  Or a political ideology.  Or romantic love.  But the book got me thinking especially about one idol Keller doesn’t talk about all that much: our families—or maybe specifically our kids.

Our kids?!!  How can that be?  Well, Keller defines an idol as “anything more important to you than God, anything that absorbs your heart and imagination more than God, anything you seek to give you what only God can give.” (Counterfeit Gods, p. xvii)  Hmm . . .

It’s food for thought, you must admit.  Of course none of us would say out loud that we love our kids more than God.  But what do our lives say?  What do our thoughts say?  Our worries?  Our obsessions?  Our preoccupations?  Our discipline?

A terrifying verse from Scripture comes to mind.  When the Old Testament priest Eli was confronted about his tragic negligence regarding the raising and conduct of his sons, God said to Eli, “ Why do you honor your sons more than me . . . ?” (I Samuel 2:29b)

“Why do you honor your sons more than me?”  It’s a haunting question.  A question that has pierced my parental heart over the years.  I would think of it from time to time when grappling with a particular discipline problem.   I didn’t like seeing my kids in pain of any kind—or sad, or disappointed, or mad as could be at me.  But sometimes honoring God by disciplining them in a loving, Godly way meant that my kids wouldn’t be all that happy, for the moment anyway.

And how about my priorities?  My choices about activities, about sports, about how we spend our time or our money?

Wait a minute, you may be thinking.  Doesn’t God give us our kids?  Doesn’t He want us to love them with everything we are and have?   Well, yes, to a point.  But let’s not get confused.  It’s the Lord our God we are told to love with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength.  And after that, our neighbor.  Starting at home, I would say.  But let’s not confuse our kids with God!

It’s really a question of what—or Who—comes first, isn’t it?   Naturally when you’re raising babies and toddlers, your mom-job with them will absorb huge chunks of your time—much, if not most, of your life, in fact.  But will those kids become your life?  In the big picture (not just a snapshot of one moment or another of your day), will they absorb so much of you that there is nothing left for your husband?  Or for God?  Will they become your ultimate source of worth and value, so that you feel personally responsible (and perhaps guilty) for every choice or decision they make even as adults?

“Idols are good things turned into ultimate things,” Keller reminds us (p. 148).  It’s a question of alignment.  Of what (or Whom) we worship.   When God is truly first in our lives, our other relationships fall into much healthier alignment.  Children raised in a home where God is first and their parents’ marriage second tend to be much healthier children (for those of you who are married—but this in no way discounts the potential effectiveness of Godly single moms).  Children who themselves become objects of their mother’s worship grow up with a distorted view of themselves, of others—and most tragically, of God.

One last thought from Keller:  Borrowing from Alexis de Tocqueville’s long-ago observations on Americans’ “strange melancholy,” I believe—Keller says that idolatry involves taking some “incomplete joy of this world” and building your life on it.

Oh, what joy our children can bring us (sometimes . . . see previous blog post).  But even at best it’s an incomplete joy.  Only God brings ultimate Joy.   Building our lives on Him will make for much stronger family-building in the end!

A Look at Life from a 19-month-old’s Perspective

For the past month, Woody and I have had the great joy of having a house full of family.  Since our kids and grandkids all live far from us, this is a gift beyond words.  It’s also been a great refresher course on life with kids—and life through the eyes of a toddler. For a few brief days—wonderful, joyfully chaotic days—we had all five grandkids here, ages four months to four-and-a half years.  But for a whole month (yay!) we’ve had Gabriella (aka Gigi) and her mom, our daughter Erika, with us from Dublin, Ireland, with Richie (Erika’s husband and Gigi’s dad) here for two weeks.

Erika and I would like to share a few “hot tips” I’ve picked up along the way from life with Gigi.  We moms can learn a lot from a 19-month-old!

He’s Home!

Rejoice with us: Our son is home from Afghanistan! On December 10, Lars arrived home to the eager arms of his beautiful and beloved wife and children in North Carolina. And as Bengt told me excitedly, “When I saw Daddy, I ran and ran and hugged him so hard I knocked him over!”

I feel as if I could do the same thing when I see him. He’s home! He’s Home! He’s home! It’s almost a constant chant at the back of my mind every day.

And tomorrow, Lars and family will be arriving here—at our home in Wisconsin! Woody and I are so excited we are like two little kids. Our whole family will be together for Christmas! Lars, Kelly, Bengt, and Hannah come tomorrow, followed in the next few days by Bjorn, Abby, and Soren from New Hampshire, and then Erika, Richie, and Gabriella from Ireland. We are grateful beyond words.

I woke up with a singing heart. And then I cried. Because there’s something else going on today. Yes, we are making final preparations for the much anticipated arrivals—big food shopping to do, baby equipment to be borrowed, and toys to be gathered from the corners of the house where they’ve been tucked away since our grandchildren’s last visit.

But today, December 19, is also the two-year anniversary of my mom’s Homegoing. Two years ago today, in Ft. Myers, Florida, with my brother and me and her sister and husband at her side, Mom went to be with Jesus. She was 84 years old. I was hugely blessed to have such a wonderful mom all these years. But still, I wasn’t ready to let her go. I knew I had to. I knew she would be better off with Jesus than in her hospice room, lovely as it was. But still, I didn’t want to let her go.

And now, two years later, I miss her every day.

I lay in bed this morning thinking of all the mixed emotions of this day—the anticipation, the joy and gratitude, the sheer happiness; yet the deep down sadness I still feel as well. And suddenly I realized something. That continual mantra at the back of my mind (“He’s home, He’s home, He’s home”) has multiple meanings for me this Christmas.

At this time of year we celebrate the coming of One who came and made his home with us for a little while. But this was not His Real Home. He died and rose again and returned to His Real Home that it might also become our Real Home. So because He’s home, my mom is, too.

Time now to go and get ready. My heart is singing! He’s home! HE’S home! And she’s home, too—along with my dad and Woody’s parents and so many many others we love. Good reason to celebrate, don’t you think?

Merry Christmas!

Dublin Delivery

No, the baby’s not here yet—Erika actually has a couple of months to go. I’m talking about a different kind of delivery: the one Woody and I made last weekend on a quick trip to Dublin. We flew there with four fully-packed suitcases and flew home with two half-empty ones. And in between, did we have fun!

We had several reasons for this trip—as if any mom and dad need a reason to visit their daughter and son-in-law! Most importantly, we wanted to see our daughter pregnant, as she really didn’t look very pregnant when she was here last June. We also wanted to help her set up a little nursery for the baby. And, we had a bunch of shower presents to deliver—from the shower I told you about last June. If any of you have mailed anything internationally recently, you will understand why we wanted to bring as much with us as we could. Of course the suitcases did have to expand even a bit more after I got back from a “pink-binge” at the mall just before leaving last week. A first granddaughter, after all…


As it turned out, we also got to help Erika and Richie move, since our trip came at just the right time when they were “moving house,” as they say in Ireland, from one apartment to another. I’m sure you’re getting the picture by now—it was a very full weekend!

We actually worked pretty hard, and enjoyed every moment of it. We were able to set up a few things for the baby: a crib (a “cot” in Ireland), a changing table, and even my Nana-obsession—a nursing rocker. (Every new mama needs a rocker.) These furniture items all came “flat-packed.” And I can tell you I am still thanking God that Woody is good at putting things together, as that’s definitely not one of the gifts God gave me.


We were able to finish cleaning out one apartment and begin some of the settling process in another. In between, we even managed to squeeze in a coffee here or there and a few dinners out. And something else I love to do: We got to worship at Erika and Richie’s church, a warm and intimate “Saturday@Five” service held in a stately old Irish Presbyterian church. I always look forward to worshiping with them.


But best of all, as you can imagine, was just seeing Erika and Richie and feeling that baby within. She’s pretty active these days. And though her wildest hours seem to be when Erika’s in bed, we were able to feel a few kicks and somersaults-in-process even in the daytime. Well worth a trip to Ireland and back!

Speaking of the trip back…it’s funny how the trip home always seems so much longer than the trip there. It is actually a bit longer on the clock (wind currents or something like that). But of course the distance is really measured in a mother’s heart.

As I said goodbye to Erika, knowing that the next time I see her she will probably be a mama (we’re still working on how to time my trip over to help her when the baby comes), I was reminded how profound Erika’s blog post was on control versus trust. Somehow it takes extra trust for this mama to entrust my “baby” to the far-away Irish healthcare system to properly deliver her baby. But no matter where she is having the baby, there will be plenty that’s out of my control. Plenty that needs to rest in the hands of God.

Being a mama is all about trust, isn’t it? Let’s keep praying for each other, girls!