Pearls

Love that is hoarded molds at last,

Until we know someday

That the only things we ever have

Are those we give away.

It’s been nearly three months since my mother in law, Marian Rudberg, left this earth for eternity. I should say Heaven. Everyone leaves the earth for eternity, but not everyone chooses Heaven. Marian is in Heaven.

Marian had a deep faith in God and I know right now she’s enjoying the presence of Jesus. She was a strong pray-er and talked about her Lord and Savior often. Her Bible was well marked and the binding loose from the many times she paged through it. 

She lived for nine decades and was 93 years old. I’m facing a new decade in a week or so, and I’m not excited about it. Yet, measured in decades, it doesn’t sound quite so old. We can’t stop time, much as we’d like to. 

My mother in law loved her home and the things in it. She made her copper bottomed pots and pans shine with cleanliness. She dusted and polished her furniture to a rich gleam and her home was spotless. She ironed her tea towels and even her sheets!

Marian had a hope chest for each grandchild—boy or girl—and throughout the years, put some of her treasures in there. Tea towels, crystal, a recipe book, a handmade afghan.

When she moved into a one bedroom apartment, there were many things she gave away to family, or sold at a yard sale. 

As Marian grew older, she moved one last time to a group home and now her home was reduced to one room, allowing for only a few pieces of furniture. Even those were eliminated at the end when there was only a dresser and hospital bed in the room.

Just last week, her surviving son, Don and his wife Nancy, presented me with something she left for me. It was her string of pearls—real ones—that I know she treasured. I remember her saying at one time, she didn’t want to wear them for they needed to be re-strung and she was afraid they’d break and she’d lose some of the pearls.

I felt a swift feeling of sadness, yet pleasure that she remembered me. I missed her—not the Marian in her last days so much, though she was still that loving person—but all those years she was in my life. More than fifty! It was an honor those pearls were singled out for me. I know she carefully thought about what to give to each person and when she fingered her pearls, she thought of me! 

One day, I’ll pass those glowing pearls on to another. But it ’s really other things about Marian I’ll remember than the lovely necklace that belongs to me now. It’s her strong faith in God. Her love as well as her stubbornness and determination. 

 Thanks for remembering me, Mom. I’ll see you again one day in Heaven. Maybe we’ll even meet at the pearly gates. I know you’ve already seen them—and I’ll bet you’re amazed at the beauty there. I’m pretty sure you haven’t thought once about that string of pearls you left me. You loved deeply and though you were very human, I’d say love would be the best description of you! And I know that would make you happy!

Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.

I Peter 4:8

What do you want to be remembered by? I’m pondering that question too.

 Enjoy your day. And think about what treasures mean the most to you—and what you want others to remember about you. 

Here are some photos of Mom, just because it’s fun to see the changes over the years. 

With nephew Ron and firstborn son, Bill

Marian loved her great grandchildren

She loved parties, giving them and attending them, too

In Marian's early days

At one of her most difficult moments

This taken only 10 months ago

Welcoming Jim into the family

Christmas, 2013

True Friendship Lasts a Lifetime

I had a date yesterday. It was a blind date of sorts. You see, it was with a friend who was my best friend in elementary school. 

Here we are in 4th Grade. Sue's on the end, I'm wearing yellow

She and I attended grade school together in the old days. I remember sleeping over at her place, in the twin bed in the cold upstairs bedroom. As you dropped off to sleep, you could hear Johnson Creek gurgle and talk in the back yard. We wandered around the little farm as young girls, looking at cows. We played in the pond and pulled up skeins of frog eggs that looked like lacy green curtains with emerald sequins . We kept secrets at school, and in our imaginations were sure there was buried treasure out in the playground. We played marbles at recess. Learned  to play the violin from the same teacher. We sang duets together in school programs. She sang lead, I sang harmony. We each loved to read, and would share titles and books we picked up in the bookmobile that visited our school every other week. We talked about everything as best friends do. Our future. Who would we marry? What would we grow up to be? What would heaven be like? In the fifth grade she and I were one of the few select students in our class invited to participate on a local television program where each of us would perform a science experiment. It was so exciting to be on live TV! Most years we were in the same class and always tried to sit next to each other. There was a good chance of that—our last names were close in the alphabet. L and Q. 

This time we sat next to each other: 6th grade

For six years, we remained steadfast friends, but in the middle of the seventh grade, my family moved to Washington State. It was only across the river from Oregon, but at age 12, that’s a long way. 

We corresponded by mail for a few years. I was in her wedding. She came to mine a year later. We even had a few family get-togethers when our first borns were little. But time, as it does to all, ate away any chance of nurturing that friendship. 

Last year on a whim, I decided to see if I could locate Susan on FaceBook. I found her!

Yesterday, we met after at least 25 years. She was wearing an animal print top. So was I! She still had the same winning smile, her hair still strawberry blonde, her eyes, a rich, warm caramel.

Just a few years later.....

We talked for a long time, as good friends do. Neither of our parents are on earth anymore. She’d suffered painful loss in the death of her teenaged daughter. I’d lost two husbands so now there’s a kinship of loss. But it’s really more than that. It’s what caused us to like each other in the first place. As we said goodbye to each other yesterday, we promised it wouldn’t be so long next time. And it won’t. I’m so glad we found each other. Welcome back into my life, Sue!

Cathedrals Among the Rocks

We’ve been home nearly a week now and for the most part, adjusted to the Pacific Time Zone. 

Our trip was amazing and never to be forgotten. For the first twelve days, we wended our way through Israel, that tiny country that packs amazing history wherever you go. We climbed up slopes, gazed at rocks, stepped down into ancient water tunnels allowing towns to withstand enemy onslaughts for months. There were beautiful old cathedrals in cities and villages. We climbed among the the tels--archeological mounds created by old civilizations--and on one road, we stopped and gazed at an old, first century tomb that the road department workers discovered while working on the road. It was similar to the garden tomb where they laid Jesus. 

Each day, we were awestruck by the sights we saw. The rock sites that once were cities began to take on personality and substance. 

It was so satisfying to see OLD churches still in existence. In Jerusalem, there was one founded and built in 325 AD. THAT’s old!

We ended our trip by visiting a dear family in a little town called Avanos, near Cappadocia. Turkey has its own flavor and antiquity as well. Sad that even though the apostle Paul journeyed there three times, and early church seeds were planted and the early Christian Church thrived. Yet now, no cathedrals grace the streets, to attract visitors. Just newer mosques with their minarets and the speakers on top of them where the call to prayer is announced five times a day.

While we were in Turkey, we took a hike not far from Avanos with the family. They called it a valley, but here in the NW, we would call it a gorge. It was beautiful and reminded me of high desert central Oregon. Mountains and streams, sprinkled with evergreens and rocks. 

Among the rocks there were churches! Yes churches! 

High among the blooming trees, there were caves. We climbed up to a few and here’s what we saw:

I thought about those churches. Fearing persecution, early Christians hid and worshiped back there in the wilderness, carving out a place to worship  Jesus.

Governments from the first century up to now, have tried to stamp out Christianity but have not been successful. Though they had to hide and hew their churches in rocks, the cross is still there to remind believers what Jesus did for us. 

"I tell you," he replied, "if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out."

Luke 19:40

I'm grateful for those brave souls who kept believing in spite of persecution. I'm grateful for the One who gives us strength to believe and even gives us what faith we have. I'm so glad God promises us His love:

....yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed.

Isaiah 54:10