Category Archives: gratitude

Both/And

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Since losing my dad a few weeks ago, I’ve been living in the Land of Both/And. It’s where two diametrically opposed feelings co-exist. Both gratitude and disappointment, both acceptance and sadness, both peace and grief. I’m feeling it all.

Dad was blessed with 92 amazing years. His heart and mind were as beautiful as his good looks. And, his legacy of kindness and love impacted so many. He was my buddy from Day 1, joking how I’d hang onto him as a little one and refuse to let others hold me. His sense of humor, sometimes sprinkled with naughtiness, kept us all giggling. A master storyteller, he shared the most fascinating, inspiring stories of his life. Dad was my first role model of love in action as a Christian, husband, father, and so much more.

When Mom died, I had a difficult time accepting it. Her death was unexpected and shocked us all. I wasn’t ready, and I fought the grief. Dad’s death was a completely opposite experience for me. I could see him slowing down, ever so slightly, over the last few years. Most recently, his 12 days of hospice care prepared me well for what was to come. I got to love on Dad each day and say goodbye. So, although I really miss him, I’m okay knowing that he’s okay. Both/And.

I wish I could end this post right here – that I’m fully at peace, even in my grief. But, there’s a plot twist: I missed Dad’s funeral. Had no idea that COVID would be the culprit that literally put me on my back minutes before heading to his service that day.

My hubby, kids, and I were all dressed and almost ready to leave for the funeral with the rest of our family. Just before our meet-up time, I suddenly became extremely warm and sick to my stomach. I couldn’t keep anything down. I eventually collapsed back into bed, completely weak, sweating. Just sick-sick.

I cried hot tears, realizing my body would not cooperate. My hubby and sister tag-teamed me and insisted I stay put, that my health was first. I disagreed, but it didn’t matter. I was so weak that I couldn’t even open my eyes to view the service online on my hubby’s phone. I could only listen, catching bits here and there. I was miserable, inside and out. Later that day, an at-home test confirmed it was COVID. I thought, “Really, Lord? I’ve. Never. Had. COVID. And it shows up now like a raging bull, of all days, TODAY?!?”

Once-in-a-lifetime moments like funerals never offer do-overs. I lay in bed, heartbroken I wasn’t celebrating Dad’s life with my family and community. I wasn’t there to comfort my teenager at the church and cemetery. I missed hugging Dad’s sisters, Mom’s sisters, so many cousins who traveled near and far to be with us.

And, while I see — and am even grateful for — God’s wisdom in keeping me from spreading COVID to countless folks at the funeral, it still hurts. I feel sad, even shame and guilt. How could I – the one who cared for Dad for so many years – not be there? It just feels all wrong.

My siblings and I were always a tight team when it came to supporting Dad after Mom died 15 years ago. As his needs changed, I became his primary care helper, eventually moving him in to live with us. During his final years in a memory care residence nearby, I saw him regularly. And when he received hospice care, I was with him twice a day.

I share these details not for accolades, but for context. To miss celebrating Dad’s life after being there with and for him so long, front and center, feels like a cruel joke. It’s like I ran a marathon with Dad all those years, but COVID didn’t let me cross the finish line. It stole my ability to honor his beautiful, extraordinary life with our family.

God gave me time to say goodbye to Dad, and I’m grateful. And, I know he’s happy with my mom, brother, and so many loved ones in a Far Better Place. I have peace knowing all of that. I just don’t have peace missing our family’s farewell moment, our celebration of Dad’s life together.

Both/And.

Yet, even as I wrestle with peace, I’m choosing to lean into Both/And. I’m relying on James 1:2-4 and remembering Mom’s wisdom that “time takes care of everything.” James and Mom have been right many times in my life. I’m trusting that, down the road apiece, this experience will be one of those times, too.
xo,
Karin

Grace and Time

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As 2021 exits not-so stage left, I remember my late mother’s steadfast faith and her frequent reminder that “time takes care of everything.”

She was so right. Time allows us to look back on what we’ve lived through – doors that opened at just the right time, battles we won, battles we didn’t even have to fight. And, all of it because of God’s grace.

I’ve witnessed proof of Mom’s wisdom countless times.  And, I have lots of stretch-and-grow marks that reflect the gift of time and the power of God’s grace . . .

. . . From being a shy kid, to playing piano solos for hundreds of folks at a time

. . . From growing pains as a young wife, to being happily married for 23 years and counting

. . . From uncertainty as a first-time mom, to trusting that we could expand our late-40s-sandwich-generation lives for baby #3 (and did)

That’s just a tiny sample, and I’m sure you have your own.  Reflecting on moments over time and remembering God’s grace through it all especially help me on tough days.  And, let’s face it: 2021 gave us a bunch of tough days (#pandemic).  We’ve had to push through a LOT.  And it seems that 2022 will require more pushing.

Like every December 31, we don’t know what the new year will bring our way.  But, I’ll keep trusting in God’s abundant grace as time takes care of so much.  And I pray 2022 brings you incredibly beautiful moments through God’s grace and time’s gifts.

xo,
Karin

Weary, But Worth It

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Hard to believe my last blog post was 8 months ago.

The culprit? A tiny human with 2 teeth and a serious milk habit. His happy eyes and easy smile are downright disarming. And, his giggles? Like sunshine for your soul.

My last post was just weeks shy of Josiah’s birth. To say that life has been extra full and moving at warp speed since then is, well, a major understatement.

Are we exhausted most days, leaning hard on Visine® (and, sometimes, the wall)? Uh-huh.

Has everything–and I do mean, literally everything–in our lives shifted because of our newest plus-one? Yep.

But has our gratitude also grown exponentially in the process? Without a doubt.

How can that be, when we’re weary on the regular?

See, Josiah is a profound gift. His mere presence is nothing short of a miracle. The reasons he technically shouldn’t be here are countless.

Want a sampling?

My age. Remember my “Hey, I’m pregnant!” post? It noted a less than 1% chance of natural conception after age 44. I was well past that age, so mine was a “geriatric pregnancy.” And, the odds were stacked high against us for a healthy mom and baby.

Last-trimester worries. The first two trimesters were pretty smooth. Sure, I had nausea all day. Extra testing and monitoring. Even some pains. But everything panned out just fine. The real challenge came in the final weeks when my amniotic fluid level suddenly increased for no apparent reason. It meant almost daily monitoring to be sure baby was fine–and moving up my due date twice for our safety.

Josiah’s landing. We reported before sunrise for a scheduled C-section. But, if baby was head-down, I could opt to be induced and push instead. He was, so I did.  And 14 hours later, Josiah made his grand entrance.  

With the cord wrapped around his neck.

I never saw it. Exhausted, I laid back and closed my eyes to catch my breath. But my concerned hubby saw it all, including how quickly the doc unwrapped that cord quickly, quietly and efficiently. He told me about it waaay later, once some time passed from the scariness of that moment.

For these reasons and many more, we don’t assume Josiah is here by chance. Rather, just like our older children (and all of us), we’re certain he has a God-given purpose to discover as he stretches and grows.

So, yeah, the tempo of our lives has changed again. The pace often feels non-stop with a new baby, being present for our older kids, supporting elders we love, careers, community service, and more. We know this life of continuous toggling will be our norm for many more years. And while we also know this pace won’t last forever, right now we’re tuckered out.

Yet even in our weariness, we’re also deeply grateful to God for so many blessings. We don’t take any of it for granted. Like feeling wet kisses on our faces, planted by a healthy baby. Watching our 3 children mature, their love as siblings firmly rooted. Hearing them laugh with doting grandparents.

And, knowing that–as long as you’re not tapping yourself out completely–some things are worth the weariness.

Your Turn: What keeps your life busy, but also blessed?

Endings & Beginnings

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K Baby Bump Week 37 soft edges
It’s hard to believe that we’re quickly nearing the end of this very special pregnancy. I think back to last fall, when my eyes kept adjusting to the pink lines on the home pregnancy tests (I took 2, remember?). In shock, all I could think was, are you kidding?!? I have more than enough “life” on my plate already! Working as an entrepreneur, being a wife and a mom of 2, caring for dad in our home, volunteering . . . AND I’m knocking on 47! Continue reading →

The 4th Reaction

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fashion-2939989_960_720 january 2018

Ever since sharing our surprise pregnancy at age 47, my hubby and I have received quite an assortment of reactions.

He has his own stories of responses from guys (let’s just say they involve a lot of high-fives). For me, reactions from women have varied but ultimately fall into 1 of 4 categories:

1. “Wow. Just, wow. Oh, and congrats!” (A shock-awe-and-happiness combo.)

2. “Better you than me.” (I can’t blame them but, quite honestly, it’s the hardest to hear and feels the least kind.)

3. “I’m calling my doctor to be sure I’M okay.” (Understandable, as they’re prompted to reassess if their own birth control methods are, ahem, in order.)

And then there’s a 4th reaction, and it’s been quite prevalent. But, it’s the one I did not see coming and did not anticipate would warm my heart the most:

“You’re giving me/my loved one/my friend hope.”

Those words, shared by more women than I can count, have made me pause every time.

See, before this pregnancy, I wrongfully assumed that 99% of women in my age range were like me: simply not even thinking of having kids anymore. At my age, a lot of women are already planning for empty nests, caring for elderly loved ones, and kicking up retirement planning a whole notch or two. Quite often, these rites of passage come up in conversations in our kitchens, on the phone, in Facebook groups.

New babies for my age group? Not as hot a topic as when I was in my 20s and 30s.

Case in point: The other day I realized there’s literally no one I nor my hubby know who’s been in our current situation—specifically, someone who’s working, raising school-age kids, caring for an elderly relative in their home each day, AND expecting a baby at our age. No one we can call to ask, “How did you DO IT?!?” We know we cannot possibly be the first folks ever in this situation. We just don’t know anyone personally. (If you do, we’d be grateful if you refer us.)

So, this 4th reaction from so many women has been wonderfully surprising for me, both generally speaking and given my own journey. Not only has it debunked my assumptions, but it also has stretched my gratitude for . . .

. . . being a hopeful chapter in many other women’s stories. Becoming an unexpected source of encouragement for others who persist on the journey to motherhood is humbling. And so is learning that they’re now praying for my health and a safe delivery.

. . . the reminder not to take blessings for granted. Like, a fiercely devoted husband who tells and shows me he loves me every day. Two healthy kids with quick minds, caring hearts and willing hands to help us love a new baby. And, yes, a new bundle of joy who happily dances in my tummy.

. . . the gift of a whole new tribe—women with renewed hope in the possibility of everyday miracles. Their hope, in turn, revives my own faith in God’s power to create odd-defying miracles in our lives each day.

I never expected to be pregnant at 47. I never expected to give others hope in the process. And, I never expected to be surrounded by so many prayers as a result. But, man, oh man, am I grateful for it all.

Your Turn:
How have you grown because of the unexpected reactions of others?

Expecting the Unexpected

39 Replies

For November 2017 Blog Surprise Gift

My hubby and I are ardent planners. Over the last 19 years, we’ve come to value having a roadmap for our journey together. Buying a one-story home we can easily maneuver later in our golden years? Yep. Having two kids, 3 years apart so “they could play together?” Uh-huh. Career moves that let us balance work and family time? Check-check.

But, are we also learning flexibility because plans can change in a split second? You bet. My mom’s sudden death. My brother’s bout with cancer. Moving my dad in with us after a fall in his home. And so, so much more. We get it. Continue reading →

Thank You! (Ummm, I Think?) (4.5-min. read)

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Granny Sykes was a hoot.

Born in 1905 in North Carolina, Effie Burt moved to Virginia as a young woman. She met and married my grandfather, David Sykes. Some years after he died, Granny Sykes moved in with our family when I was about 13 years old. My parents cared for her until she passed away at age 96 after a brief illness, the day before my 31st birthday.

Granny Sykes was strong physically and cognitively. Read her Bible daily. Made the best bread rolls in the world. Completely unafraid of snakes, yet she jumped when she saw a frog on the ground. Said with her Southern touch, “Toady frogs can jump on you. A snake cain’t do that.” She’d actually chase down snakes. Even nabbed one that ventured to our front doorstep one summer morning. She was about 80 years old at the time. And the snake was longer than our garden hoe. Continue reading →