Making Easter a big deal for your kids

A couple weeks ago I shared with some ladies at church 4 ways we can make Easter special in our homes so our children know that this is a time of year when we rejoice in our risen Savior.  I thought I'd share them here and then discuss them more in detail in the coming days.  These ideas are very simple, but can make Easter a big deal for your kids!

Working on a painting -- keeping it real with the messy house in the background!

The lambs are peeking out of the book basket

1. Books -- get some really excellent books celebrating Christ's death and resurrection and put them in a special place in your home.  I dragged down a large picnic basket to hold mine, and put them out in the living room so they are accessible to my kids all the time, but also have a designated place so it looks nice (our collection of stuffed lambs is in the basket as well).  Start now to build your collection by buying 1 or 2 books each year, adding one to each child's Easter basket, or trying to find good titles from your local library (I wouldn't count on just that -- but you can find some!).  I gathered together all our storybook Bibles as well so we can read about Jesus' life in each of those, and read and re-read the accounts of the Holy week so that when they know the story very well.  Tomorrow I will  Here is a post a suggested list of Resurrection titles I like to read for children.

2. Music -- just as Christmas has its carols, worthy of singing because of the great truth and tradition, teach your children songs about Easter!  When my daughter was not quite 2, we just sang the Gospel song and "Easter Friday" over and over with lots of motions.  Now that she is almost 4 we are learning a new song every week this year.  I think you have to be a bit more intentional with this, because Easter songs are not marketed and available like Christmas carols, but you can glean wonderful songs from here and there, and play them in your home, sing them before a meal, listen to them in the car. . . my daughter has been known to belt them out in the grocery store. ;)  Please comment if you have a favorite Easter song or hymn!  I will be posting links Here is a post I wrote about some of ours.

fabric scrap bunting

3. Decorate your house -- in some ways this is less essential than the first two, but it does speak volumes to your kids that you are remembering a special occasion when you get busy making your home look fresh and springy.  Here are some suggestions for a VERY everyday person:  (I am NOT a decorator by any means!) There are lots of free printables on Pinterest you can print off and frame you just have to search through the bunnyish ones to find the good stuff!  You can write scripture passages on a chalkboard (I borrowed some from my neighbor who decorates for weddings.  I do not own cute things like that!).  You can hang a banner or bunting (I made mine by ripping scraps into strips and looping it around a ribbon), a wreath, spread a special tablecloth or use spring colored place mats.  I like to cut branches with small buds on them and put them in jars to watch them open, and then use that for our "Easter Tree" that we hang small trinkets on each day when we open our resurrection eggs.  I have my kids paint and color and use markers on special coloring pages and crafts I print off and then hang those up as well, as part of our decor.  There are so many possibilities for decorating if you are actually artistic and crafty! :)

This year I received a very special quilt that belonged to my mother that is a gorgeous bright colored antique.  I think it will be a part of our Eastertime decor every year from now on as it was the quilt that we draped on my mother's coffin at her funeral.  When I look at it, I remember that we have hope because Jesus crushed death on Easter morning.

Susie helping make a tasty treat to send to her Aunt who is in college

4. Traditions -- when it comes to Christmas, we have Christ-centered traditions like crazy!  I want Easter to be no less for my kids.  So I have been planning certain foods we make each year, certain activities and outings and crafts.  You certainly don't have to do everything, but if you choose a few things and do them well, and intentionally, it will become a tradition your kids look forward to each year! I will be posting more about activities we enjoy doing in the coming days, but for now, I will link my posts from past years if you are interested in reading what we have done in the past.  This year is much easier because I am really just re-doing what I have done before with a couple of additions!  That's one bonus about traditions!

Holy Week Last Year
Decorations and Easter Baskets
Countdown to Easter
Easter 2011
More Holy Week activities 2011
Holy Week 2011

Talking to young children about death

Many people struggle with talking to little children about death, heaven, or even Easter because it means discussing Christ's death on the cross.  I have friends who are very good parents who have avoided even introducing those words to their children because they fear that they are not emotionally ready to deal with such painful things, and I can't say I necessarily disagree with that.  However, my children, and many others as well, encounter and even are born into situations where they must learn about death sooner than their parents might wish.  

One of the last pictures of my mom

Since my mom died right before my first child was born, Susie has never known her grandmother.  When she was a baby, I wondered how I would tell her about my mom, or if she would wonder why she had 2 grandfathers but just one grandmother.  I mentioned my mom, told her that she was named after her, but one day I met my upstairs neighbor in the hallway and she told me her mom was dying.  I absolutely broke down in front her and my kids, and later that afternoon, when Susie said "Mommy was sad when she was talking to Miss Jodi" I knew I had to tell her.  I had to tell her that my mom got sick and died.  And that I miss her.  And then I got out a book about Heaven and we read it together (I helped the words along a bit -- we were somewhat just enjoying the pictures).  And now she knows.  And we can talk about it.  And we do quite a bit. Grandmommy is in heaven.  She used to live at Grandad's house but then she died and now she lives with Jesus.

Here is the beautiful part for me: my mom is now known to her.  Susie recognizes her pictures and talks about Grandmommy.  The other day she was pretending about her.  We still haven't even pulled out the home videos, but when we do, I know she will be even more present in her mind. And when we visit my childhood home next, I will be able to point out even more special things that I know she will latch onto.

When Susie heard me say that Miss Jodi's mom was dying she said "like Jesus died on the cross."  I am so thankful that her first reference with death is Christ's death -- because he triumphed over death!  And it is because of his death that we who have lost our loved ones can have hope -- and can pass this hope on to our children when we teach them about death.  I am not suggesting being overly morbid or trying to push children into emotional situations they are not ready for, but I am talking about creating a category for my children in which we weep but we hope in Christ when we are facing a difficult situation.  This is why I bring my kids to a visitation -- perhaps not yet to see the casket unless it was someone they knew particularly well, and we haven't had that situation yet -- but to see what mourning looks like to people who hope in the gospel. 

The truth is, there is not an age in which we can discuss death and not feel the sting it brings.  One of the elders at my church, Bruce Ware,  lost his mother shortly before I lost mine and he told me "Gretchen, my mother was 90 years old and ready to see her Lord.  But she was my mom. And I miss her tremendously because she was a good mother."  It is also true that we cannot control when and if death will encounter our children -- it is outside our control.  Your child may lose a pet, or a grandparent, may deal with a miscarried younger sibling or may witness the sickness and loss of a family or church friend, as many children at our church witnessed when our music pastor Chip Stam battled cancer and died. My encouragement would be to begin at a small age to explain just a little bit, and be open with them when someone is sick or passes away.  And even more important -- be sure to teach your children, even very very young ones, that Christ died once for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous that he might bring us to God.  It is the ONLY way we can also then explain that we have hope that one day we will be able to say "oh death, where is your sting? Oh grave, where is your victory?"

So I would encourage you in the upcoming Easter season, to use Holy Week as a time to instruct your little ones about Jesus' death on the cross and resurrection from the grave!  Teach them songs, read them books (you may want to be choosey about the pictures so they aren't overwhelmed with images of Christ's death they aren't ready for), and celebrate that He is ALIVE!  In the upcoming weeks I hope to post more ideas for the little children during Holy Week, but for now, here are several posts I wrote last year when Susie was almost two.  Please leave me a comment if you have input or ideas for me!  

All American Sue is Born -- Chapter One

Helen and Curtis Wilkinson were fascinating people.  Curtis persuaded Helen to elope when she was just 15 years old, shortly before he had to report for active duty in Europe.  While he was learning to jump out of airplanes alongside the bravest men in the world, Helen was at home, singing and playing her guitar with her father and sister Mildred to earn gas ration cards.  He saw the Eiffel Tower and other sights in Europe, and she helped with the tobacco crop in rural Kentucky.

When Curtis returned home to Liberty Kentucky, it was not long before the two became three.   Helen was at home in their one room home on the farm when she went into labor.  In that rural area, it was common for a woman to give birth at home rather than in a hospital.  Helen was 19 years old when she had her first child -- a tiny baby girl.  It was June 20th, 1947.

They named their precious girl Bonita Sue.  Bonita is Spanish for pretty, but she was never called by that name.  To them, she was always "Susie", and a sweet Susie she was indeed.

One can just imagine Helen holding her precious child on a hot, still summer night.  Perhaps she thought her daughter looked like her handsome husband, Curtis.  Perhaps she counted her little fingers and toes, and hummed soft little lullabies.  Perhaps she planned all the adorable little outfits she would sew for her girl, and take her around to show to all her family and friends.  Perhaps she looked down the road at the years ahead and the myriad of conversations she and Susie would have.  She would be her forever friend . . . 

Changing her first baby in a perfect little nursery

I cannot say for sure what Helen felt or thought at the sight of her child, but knowing Sue as I did, and seeing her as a mother, I imagine that she must have been mothered by someone who loved her very dearly.  For you see, when Susie grew up, she wanted to be a mother so very much, and waited to become one for a very long time.  When the Lord finally answered her prayers for a child, and then again, and again and again, those children were loved as the most precious gifts she could have ever received.  Sue was a new mother at 29, and endured natural childbirth and inducement when she had her last baby at age 45.  Babies were a part of Sue's world her whole life long -- before she had her own, she and her husband would borrow other people's babies to hang out with, and after hers all became teenagers, she adopted the whole church nursery as her extra grandchildren.  Of course it is easy to love sweet and cute children, but for Sue, she loved them all, even those who were harder to love.

And she loved to hear the news of someone getting a baby.  Whether it was a young mom finding out she was pregnant for the first time, or a woman who had long been unable to have children adopting a little one, Sue would share in their joy just as if it were her own.  She once gave a silver spoon to a friend who had never had a child when she found out she was expecting.  "Your baby deserves to be born with a silver spoon in it's mouth" she told her.  That baby was taken to heaven before she ever saw this world, and I now have that precious silver spoon in my baby's room.  

Sue Wilkinson was certainly not born with a silver spoon in her mouth, but she had the love of her young parents. . . and was rich indeed.  

Do you know. . .

Do you know this little girl?

She's the kind of girl that you would love to have as a friend.  And I'm sure she would have been your friend as well, for when I knew her, she never met a stranger.  She was  lots of fun and knew how to shuffle cards perfectly with a fluttery-snap finish.  If you didn't know how, she'd be happy to teach you to play "rummy".

Here are some other things about her:

She loved to read.

She was the oldest sister in a family of 5 kids.

She called her parents "Mother" and "Daddy" her whole life.

She was in lots of plays.

She became a teacher and a mommy when she grew up.  And she was really good at both jobs. 

She was really quite the classic "All-American Girl"

Her parents and sisters called her "Susie", but most of her grown up friends called her "Sue".

You'd probably know who she is better by this picture:  

Announcing my new blog series "All-American Sue" about the youth of my mother, Sue Benzing.  Be sure to check back every Thursday for a new chapter in her life!  This will be a 12-week series, taking breaks on the holidays.  Come back and learn about:

Susie's southern roots

The apple-peel story

The Popsicle stick story

Her bedtime "routine"

Plus lots of great pictures and much more!!

Please pray for me as I work on this project that I will write something worth keeping to honor my mom!

What I Longed for at Age 13 -- Chapter 10 in My Life Story

Gretchen on her 13th birthday before a family dinner out

July 26th, 1991 was circled and circled about a thousand times on my calendar.  I added stars, balloons, hearts and stickers to the small square.  It was the day I would become a teenager!  Yes, I looked forward to my thirteenth birthday as if I expected to step into a new colorful world like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz does when she leaves her black and white world and steps into the brilliant land of Oz.  Perhaps the city of Billings would send fireworks into the sky announcing "Gretchen is Thirteen" on that fine night.

Opening gifts on my 13th birthday

Well, my birthday actually came and went a bit more quietly, believe it or not.  My Grandma and Grandpa Benzing and cousin Aaron were out visiting us, and we spent the day driving to and touring Cody, Wyoming.  By this time, touring the surrounding sites was a pretty typical part of life, and we all were used to the very long drives. I remember Aaron and Nathan rode in the far back of our Suburban -- behind the 3rd row of seats, because we were packed so full.  We didn't mind.  We ate out to celebrate my birthday at a steakhouse we all loved called JR's.  I remember eating outside on the beautiful covered patio there -- not something you can do just anywhere in July!  My Grandma gave me a bracelet, and it was either silver or gold (I can't remember), but I do remember being really excited that it was real.   

By the pool in my swim suit -- this pose cracks me up

Another exciting part about "growing up" for me was that my mother let me start shaving my legs!  I had been looking forward to that for some time, especially since the majority of my friends (most of whom were already teenagers) were shaving theirs.  It was the sort of thing that would be at the forefront of your mind when you had a swimming pool and all the older girls who had crushes on your brother were constantly inviting themselves over to swim.  If I had read Pride and Prejudice at that time, I would have felt like Miss Darcy, who was "doted" upon by the Bingly sisters in order to gain her brother's attention.  Of course, I did not fall for it, like Miss Darcy did. . . I could see what those girls were up to, and felt pretty slighted by it!  I felt rather like a child because I was a skinny-scrawny 13 year old who had in no way begun to fill out.  Those hot '90's fashions just didn't do much justice to the non-curvy figure!


I waited all summer to begin my stint as a junior volunteer at St.Vincent's Hospital.  All of my homeschool friends as well as me and my brother signed up for this program to become "Candy Stripers", but I couldn't start at the beginning of the summer because I was not yet 13.  A couple days after my birthday, however, my mom dropped me off at the big front entrance of that hospital and wept as I walked in wearing my red and white striped jumper, french braid and sporting white tennis shoes with my freshly shaven legs.  She told me later that seeing me there brought back memories of my difficulties at the start of my life and she couldn't help but cry to see me so grown up.  

Me and Jennie working at the Cheri Nook Snack Bar

I was able to continue volunteering once a week, even after school started because I was homeschooled.  Several other homeschool friends and myself worked in the "Cheri Nook Snack Bar" for about 4 hours every Friday.  The other volunteers at the hospital during the school year were elderly, and I enjoyed making friends with Candy -- an elderly gentleman who always manned the soup station at the snack bar.  I liked to do the sandwiches, so we made a good team.  Lots of the older volunteers would come in and order funny sandwiches like braunschweiger with sweet pickles and "Arnold Palmers" to drink.  My outgoing personality fit this job well, and I often took extra shifts for people when they asked me to fill in for them.  I worked in the snack bar the whole school year, and then when the next summer came, I was first in line to choose a new volunteer area.  I immediately chose the Maternity Ward -- the most coveted volunteer spot where newbies usually weren't able to work.  Who didn't want to take gifts and flowers to new mamas, hold and rock babies in the nursery, and fill up water pitchers with ice water?


But before that opportunity came along, my brother and I made a sneaky discovery.  We had a hunch my mother was expecting another baby.  Sometime that late fall we found her vitamins in the cupboard and once Nate spotted her looking at her profile in the mirror (such small things to go on, it's true!  But we were just positive we were right).  Oddly enough, for a 14 and 13 year old, we decided we were quite worried for our older mother.  She was over 44, and we already had a baby sister!  Why exactly did she feel the need to have another at this age?  We were being overly dramatic, but at the time, we shared our secret and our worries only with each other.  Sure enough, mom made the big announcement, but unlike the time she told us about Emily coming, our response did not equal that level of jubilee.  Anna was excited, but Nathan and I had already been harboring our fears about Mom's health (so silly!  She was entirely healthy), so we couldn't quite get enthusiastic about the news.

8th grade picture, growing out the bangs

Looking back, I see that my main hang up was my own self-centeredness.  I was all about my life, and being obsessed with boys (I wrote often in my journal how much I wanted a boyfriend), homeschool activities, and just looking and being cool.  It was not the same rebellious selfishness that I embraced at eleven, it was just foolishness, and immaturity that is so common to age thirteen.  My new huge hoop earrings and LA Gear matching jeans and jacket with the pink and white twisted shoestrings on them were just so much more important to me than another addition to our family, as terrible as that sounds.


It would be way way too long to list all the fun homeschool activities of my 7th grade year (in Montana where there were so very many homeschoolers, we saw friends nearly every day at sports practices, skiing, ice skating, roller skating, and bowling outings, as well as field trips, and our "student government" organization "THWAP"), but I must mention a couple.  One really exciting Christmas activity was being in the Billings Christmas parade.  Our THWAP group-- Teen Homeschoolers With A Purpose-- built the float, showing an old-fashioned cowboy Christmas on one side, and a modern day cowboy family on the other.  We all worked together building the float, and then were allowed to walk in the parade.  I chose to be on the old-fashioned side, and my mom had me made a pioneer dress and bonnet for the occasion.  It was below zero during the parade, so I had to wear snowpants and earmuffs underneath the costume, and our smiles about froze on our faces.  But cancel?  Never!  The streets of Billings were teeming with viewers, despite the cold.  I remember my hands were so swollen afterward from the tight layers of shirts and tight wrists of my costume dress.


After Christmas, our homeschool organization went skiing together every Thursday.  We did extra schoolwork in advance to make up for those ski days, and enjoyed a full, long day of driving to Red Lodge to ski.  I loved it -- the lifts, the wind blowing in my face, eating lunch together in the lodge -- but my inferiority complex sometimes got the better of me, robbing me of that joy.  I was not the brave skier that many of my friends were, and no matter how much I wanted to go along, I just couldn't get the courage to attempt the black diamond runs.  I also could tell that the girls who wore the skin-tight ski pants were getting an awful lot of attention from our guy friends, and I felt like a kid in my poofy snowpants.  My mother did not approve of the shiny show-off-your-rear-end type pants, and would not buy them for us (looking back, I'm so thankful for her discretion).  She let Anna and I wear long johns under our jeans and ski in those, however, and we were happy with that.  Because, as everyone knows, looking cool while skiing makes or breaks the fun.


We all 3 ran track that spring, on the homeschool team.  My dad would take us to track practice in the early morning while it was still dark, so we could use the public school track before school began.  I was on the JV team because I was technically still in 7th grade, but I ended up being pretty good, and would fill in on the varsity relay teams.  My friend Jessie was the best sprinter, and it was fun to be one of the best together with her!  We might not have been the "hottest" girls, but we excelled on the track team.  I remember the feeling in the pit of my stomach the morning of our first meet, and I prayed, as I walked across the green field that I would win just one ribbon -- any color, it didn't matter, but just win something.  I ended up winning several blues and reds!  I remember celebrating with our homeschool team and my dad making up a cheer that we all shouted with vigor.  I was on CLOUD NINE!!  Running was so fun.  We traveled to Great Falls, and Bozeman for track meets, where I won more ribbons, but the best meet of all was the state meet right there in Billings.  Our 4x100 relay teams (JV and Varsity) were pretty good, but we couldn't top Billings Christian School, until that meet.  I remember crystal clearly running my leg of the relay -- rounding the corner, and passing every other runner except the BCS girl.  I slapped the baton into Jessie's hand, and pantingly followed her down the final stretch.  I could see our parents cheering wildly in the stands -- we'd won first place!!  Jessie had leaned into the ribbon, besting the BCS runner, and beating them in the state competition!  Though it would be hard to top that moment, when our JV team ran, we easily won first, and discovered afterward that we had beat the junior high state record!  Once again, I was on cloud nine.  Even falling flat on my face during the finals in the 100 could not take away my excitement (I truly did do that.  My legs just could keep up with how hard I was trying to go, and I WIPED OUT.  We have it on video, and it is pretty funny to watch).


Homeschoolers from all over the state came together on several occasions that year.  One was for our state convention, and we got to stay together in the lovely hotel we'd stayed in when we moved to Billings.  For days, we were surrounded with homeschool peers, and could not have had more fun hanging out.  There was a dinner with a talent show for the teens, and Anna and I were part of a mime to the song "We are His Hands", which we performed for the 100 or so teenagers there.  Later that spring was our spring formal!  It was common there to rent formal dresses, so we all chose dresses from the same shop so we wouldn't overlap.  There were only a few dresses that came in a small enough size for me, but I loved the royal blue one I chose.  Mom bought me a flower comb to wear in my hair, and my dad gave me a wrist corsage to wear.  I remember getting ready for the formal was entirely more fun than the activity itself, and to this day, I pretty much feel the same way about formal occasions.

Holding my newborn sister Abby

Well, the conclusion to this long chapter must now come -- with the birth of my littlest sister.  Mom was induced on Friday, July 17th -- which happened to be the same day I was scheduled to work in the maternity ward.  I could walk into labor and delivery to visit my mom in between my responsibilities, and I recall holding her hand during difficult contractions.  Her tight grip scared me!  By that afternoon, not long after I finished my shift, my sister was born, Abigail Katherine.  It was just a few days before my 14th birthday, and just a month after my mom's 45th birthday.  Here she was, another addition to our family.  I am ashamed to recall that I was not as excited about Abby as I should have been.  Emily was so cute and so fun, I didn't feel like I needed another sister!  In the years that followed, however, my eyes were opened to see how precious it was for my parents to have another baby in the house.  Poor Mom had to endure the "Sarah and Isaac" jokes, but bore it well, looking a full ten years younger than most of her peers -- radiating with youth and mothering her new baby.  

I'm linking up to Mommy's Piggy Tales where we're writing our stories in 15 chapters.  Note:  I'm going back through some of my posts and adding more pictures, since I got a few pics over the weekend.  You can click the "Life Story" label below to read them all.

The Best News Our Mother Could Have Told Us -- Chapter 7 in My Life Story

When I was a kid, I went to bed pretty early.  Eight-o-clock was our bedtime, every night.  When we turned ten (double digits -- WOO HOO!), we got a new bedtime -- 8:30!  I remember when Nate turned ten, he would smirk gloatingly as Anna and I traipsed off to bed, while he got the extra half hour of freedom.  So when it was my turn, I thought it would be just great to have that extra time up, but more times than not, I felt bad for my sister, and I would end up going to bed before 8:30!  My parents were pretty easy on us staying up and talking (we shared a room for the most part) since we went to bed so early, so bedtime was totally playtime.  Around my tenth birthday, Anna got her own room (formerly Mom's sewing room/our play room).  We still chose to sleep in the same room -- some nights her room, some nights mine.  We made up songs or skits or (our fave) commercials and then performed them for Mom or Dad when they came up to "tuck us in".  Anna and I each had a stuffed tiger (from our stays in the hospital) that we loved to play with and pretend they were our children.  My room had a large mirror on the wall directly across from the bed, so we would watch ourselves in the mirror.  At one point I invented the best and most scary face imaginable, and we would sit up making the face at ourselves in the mirror until we shivered with fear.  When we slept in Anna's room, she had a night light that cast our big shadows up on the wall, so we would perform commercials or skits and watch our shadows.

We had just gone to bed in Anna's room one night, when my parents called us, so we got back up.  Mom put a little picture on the table and asked us if we knew what it was.  It was just sort of black and white lumpy looking, and we didn't know what it was.  Nathan pointed out that it said Mom's name at the top, so it had to do with her.  "Yes!" she told us "you're putting it together!  See, this is the head, this is the feet. . . "

"A BABY?!!!!!!!!!!!"  You cannot imagine our shrieks of delight.  Mom and Dad confirmed that, indeed, we would have a new brother or sister at the end of May.

We were wild with excitement.  I don't really think my parents expected us to settle down and sleep anytime really soon after that news!  Anna and I bounced on her bed, chattering excitedly about the baby that was coming.

In the following months, Mom was given baby showers (she hadn't had a baby in 9 years, so more than one group of people decided to bless her this way) and craved bean burritos from Taco Bell.  Anna's room was turned into a nursery, and she moved back into sharing my room -- something we didn't seem to mind a bit.  The nursery was the best room in the house.  Anna and I would go in there and quietly organize and reorganize the bottles of lotion and power, baby clothes (there weren't many since ultrasounds in 1989 weren't great at predicting gender) and tiny diapers (Mom used disposable diapers this time around -- I remember her buying Luvs).

On May 11th, the 3 of us were taking standardized tests at home (Mom didn't much care for those, but had us take them now and then anyway), when we could tell something was going on.  Mom would disappear from time to time, and we overheard her on the phone.  There was nothing standardized about the tests we were taking at that point!  Later, Mom found out that we scored terrible marks on our tests, but it's hard to blame us!  We were sooooo distracted, knowing our teacher was in labor!  We drove to the doctor, and he sent Mom away for a bit.  He told us to run an errand and come to the hospital in a couple hours.  I remember we went to the store and bought baby blankets.  I was very anxious to get Mom back to that hospital!!  When she was finally allowed to check in, the 3 of us settled down for a wait in the waiting room.  I can't imagine most people leaving their 3 children to wait by themselves while their mother has a baby, but Dad checked in on us from time to time, and we would have flipped if we had to stay home or something.  Mom packed us presents to open periodically.  After a half hour, we opened our first presents -- books to read while we waited.  The next hour, and we opened sour straws candy.  At some point Dad came to take us to eat in the cafeteria (we thought it was delicious!), and we all made our predictions what time the baby would be born -- Dad wrote down our predictions and stored them in his shirt pocket.

A baby girl was born after 8:00pm!  We were ushered in to see the baby in the delivery room.  I remember holding my little sister before she was bathed or anything -- just wiped off a bit and wrapped up.  Her hair looked black and we all agreed which name she should be called (my parents had 2 options in mind) -- Abigail!  A little later that night after she was washed, her hair looked much lighter and we all suddenly changed our minds -- she looked more like an Emily to us!  So that's what she was called.


We all tossed around middle name suggestions, but my parents couldn't make up their minds.  I remember before my mom was going to be discharged, a nurse came in with the birth certificate and asked if they'd decided on the name.  Mom told Dad just to pick, so he named her Emily Susan Benzing.  My mom's middle name was Sue, and that was the name she went by, so Emily's middle name was after Mom. 

Me bringing Susie home -- this was Emily's sweater

The next day Dad took us shopping, and let each of us choose a dress for the baby.  I remember that department store with all the fluffy little dresses (it was the late '80s!) that were wider than they were long.  We all picked 0-3 months.  Mine was blue with pink flowers embroidered on it, and I thought it was so so pretty.  


Emily wore a baby nightgown with colorful stars on it for her trip home (gender neutral, remember), along with a yellow hand-knit sweater that someone gave to my mom for one of her baby showers.  When I was pregnant, Mom gave this sweater to me, and MY baby Susie wore it home from the hospital, too! 

Emily with Grandpa Benzing at about 4 months old

I turned eleven not long after Emily was born, but the best thing about being ten turned out to be something much better than staying up a half hour longer at bedtime.  I am linking up to Mommy's Piggy Tales where we are telling the stories of our youth.

Gretchen Learns to Ride a Bike, and Other Lessons -- Chapter 3 in My Life Story

Chapter 3 in telling our childhood tales at Mommy's Piggy Tales is supposed to be about 1st grade or 6 years old.  One big lesson that stands out to me at that age was getting my first bicycle and learning to ride it!

I can remember clear as day the diary entry I wrote about buying my new bicycle.  I wish so much I still had that diary (or any of my childhood journals, but sadly during my insecure junior high years I trashed everything that embarrassed me, including my diaries!), but I'll have to recreate the entry best I can here (it's been a few years).

Dear Diary,

Today I went to buy a new bike.  We went to Johnny's Toys.  I looked for a special bike, and I got one that was pink and gray named the Sea Princess.  I chose it because it reminds me of going to Hilton Head Island and it has sea shells on it.  I am going to learn to ride it.

Love, Gretchen

Imagine this entry filled with some misspellings and you'll have the gist. :)  It was as though the heavens opened and a ray of light shone down on that bike when I came upon "The Sea Princess" -- pink and gray with a couple of shells on the frame and a nice big banana seat.  Oh yes, this was the bike for me!!  I remember Nate and Anna got bikes around the same time as I did and none of us knew how to ride them yet (yes, at 6 it was time to learn!).  Nathan's bike was sporty -- yellow and black and very cool.  It was made to do cool tricks with!  Anna's was called "Dusty Rose" (I believe) and it was a sparkly purplish color.

My mom was determined that we learn to ride bikes all the way -- no messing with training wheels.  She felt that we would get dependent on the wheels and not really learn to balance.  So she took us into the yard (so it wouldn't hurt so much when we fell off) and started us near the top of the slope that went from the street down into the yard.  She'd start out holding the back of our seat, running along with us shouting "PEDAL!!! PEDAL!!!!!!!!!" and then at some point let go.  She taught Nathan first that way, and then me and then Anna.  I remember tumbling a few times, but Mom was right, as long as I kept pedaling, I would stay up!  It didn't seem long before we were all 3 riding around everywhere.  

Another lesson from around this time was learning to say goodbye.  My Uncle Gene was my dad's younger brother, and my favorite uncle.  This picture here is of Uncle Gene with my Aunt Pat and my cousin Sarah.  He was so much like my dad -- fun and funny and great with kids, and Anna and I loved it when he would pretend our braids or ponytails were handles on a motorcycle.  He'd make all the noises, tickling our neck "putting in the key" and drive us around.  Uncle Gene had a brain tumor and our family prayed for him every single day.  I can't remember how hard that must have been for my dad, but I do remember when they told me that Uncle Gene died.  He had 2 kids -- my cousins Geoff and Corrie Beth (Corrie was really really little still), and our whole big Benzing family was so so sad.  I remember driving to the funeral in Kansas and seeing Corrie Beth dressed up at the funeral dinner afterward.  I remember as we spent the night before the funeral I had a terrible dream (it seemed terrible to me at the time -- which is why I remember it so vividly) that a robber stole a cup from me.  It was just a kid cup, but the robber was really scary and I was so sad the cup was stolen.  I went to my parent's bedside and told them my dream and asked "WHY did Adam and Eve have to sin????"  Looking back, I must have been processing a lot of thoughts about sin and death.  The sinfulness of humankind was becoming quite real to me.  Before Uncle Gene even died, I had asked my parents if Uncle Gene was scared to die, and one of them told me that yes, sometimes he was scared to die, but when a Christian faces death, they are given grace from Jesus to be able to go through it.  I remembered those words so clearly 25 years later when I sat with my family at my mother's deathbed, knowing with a certain peace that God was pouring out a grace on my mother to face her death.

I don't have any "school" memories from first grade, because my Mom was almost a "nonschooler" when it came to the early years.  Nathan, Anna and I all taught ourselves how to read really young (I do not remember not knowing how -- I only remember seeing words and knowing them), and Mom would read aloud to us all the time.  We also took fun "field trips" -- which we didn't even know were field trips, they were just part of our fun, learning world.    When we began more official text-book type work the next year, we were in no way behind, and after a few hiccups in 2nd grade math, I was cruising along just fine.  I can't imagine having the freedom to teach my kids that way, but I'm honestly so impressed by my mother, not being intimidated to do what she felt was best in an era when homeschooling was almost unheard of!  She must have fought a battle on all sides -- people wanting to know why we weren't in school, and her own motherly tendency to compare us with other children (what mom doesn't fall into that trap?).  Mom was really quite a minimalist in her demands on us, which might make many people cringe!  But I can tell you that looking back, those idyllic years of exploration, interesting books, tasting new foods from Jungle Jims (a grocery store) and wonderful hours of read-aloud were precious indeed. 

Early Memories and Birthday Traditions -- Chapter 2 in My Life Story

I'm a bit stumped on how to write chapter two in my life story, since chapter one was such an intense story.  At Mommy's Piggy Tales we are writing 15 parts to our story, and this chapter is supposed to be preschool or kindergarten years.  There is no one outstanding event in those years for me, or a cohesive theme of smaller events, so I decided to post some of my earliest memories and some of the birthdays I enjoyed.  

In my last chapter, I referred to my brave and loving mother, and many of you praised her in your comments.  Thank you so much for doing that.  I neglected to share that she passed away last year right before I had my first child, which is why my childhood stories I heard from her are all the more precious.  I won't take time here, but if you would like to read a few other posts I wrote about Sue Benzing, please click on the "My Mom" label I have at the end of this post.  I couldn't continue writing without putting my memories in their current context (does that make sense?).

You may not believe me, but one of my earliest memories is being in a crib, which is pretty darn early, because I got my first little sister Anna before I turned two, and I moved into a big girl bed so she could have the crib.  I remember when Anna was born we went to visit my mom in the hospital.  The memories are very vague, but I recall being in the elevator going to see her.  My mom told me that when my brother Nathan and I were waiting for our baby to be born, my parents would say "it will be Anna or Nicholas", so when we left with Anna, we cried, wondering where Nicholas was.  We thought we'd get both of them, I guess!  

The next big event in my life was breaking my collarbone.  I was sharing a room with my brother so Anna could have the nursery, and sleeping in a big girl twin bed.  I remember that room so clearly!  It had 1-2-3 curtains (which I'm certain my mom sewed) and gingham wallpaper and a hard wood floor (which is good for toys!).  I fell out of my bed in the middle of the night (I was not quite two), and cried, of course, but calmed down and went back to sleep.  The next day, my mother was dressing me, and I would cry when she moved my arm!  Turns out my collarbone was broken!  I guess that's what happens when babies fall out of their beds onto hard wood floors, haha!

When I was two, I got a riding toy in the shape of a shoe.  Our driveway was at an incline (street at the top, garage at the bottom), so we would take our trikes, big wheels, or shoe, as it were, to the top of the driveway and would fly down the hill.  The shoe did not have pedals, but it didn't need them!  I could just pick up my feet and WHEEEEEEE!  We must have spent hours a day running up and riding down.  Same concept as sledding.

I sucked my thumb until I was four, and people often asked me what flavor it was.  I thought it was SUCH a dumb question, but I came up with a response so they would leave me alone, and I would answer "chocolate".  Similarly, I now tell people Susie's thumb tastes like strawberry when they say "does it taste good?"  Side note -- my teeth stayed straight. . . so I have a hard time worrying about Susie sucking her thumb.

My mom made us a special birthday cake every year.  I do not remember very many birthday presents, but I do remember what kind of cake we had.  She made a yummy whipped cream frosting for a round 2 layer cake that looked thick and a mile tall to a small child.  Sometimes the cake had a number candle, sometimes it had gumdrops decorating the top (or around the sides), I think it once had a plastic train for my brother's birthday, but the cake itself was the same shape and kind.  And birthday parties meant my mom's whole family came over, and pretty much hyper play time was the order of the day.  This first picture is of my 2nd birthday.  Someone had given me gum, and I was quite enjoying the gum, but not sure how to blow out my candles with gum in my mouth!  In a (soundless) home video, you see a hand reach out for me to put the gum in.  HAHA!  Classic!

Here is another birthday picture, this time, my third.  You can see my sister Anna in the background being held up by her big brother!  So funny!  The other kids are my cousins Robbie and Rachel.  I love how we (the big kids -- hee hee) are so dressed up, while poor baby Anna is already in her jammas!  For whatever reason, I remember quite a few birthday celebrations taking place after church at our house.  This cake was especially decorated with gumdroppy fruit slice candies!  


One time on my birthday, I got to go to "Johnny's Toys" which was a local toy store in Cincinnati and pick out something from the birthday room.  I think I may have been 4 or 5, but I can't remember.  I do however, remember the TOWER of toys in that room, all wrapped in the same red and white striped wrapping paper.  What to choose?  You could only get one!  The shelves seemed to groan with red and white packages, and I blindly chose . . . a clown doll.  It was okay, but maybe not a girl's dream come true present!  

Gretchen age 5

However, there was one year when my dream DID come true!  What on earth could I have wanted more in 1984 than a . . . CABBAGE PATCH DOLL?  Oh me, oh my, we wanted wanted wanted those cute things.  My mom caught the fever with us because she thought they were adorable, too.  And hard to come by for a while there.  That's why, when we came upon a whole slew of them in a store right before Anna's birthday, Mom told us each to pick one out.  Anna would get hers for her birthday, and we'd have to wait until our birthdays came.  Anna picked a red-haired braided girl named Maude Marcella, and I found Catalina Jackie who was wearing a ruffly blue dress with a pink rosette.  Nathan chose a boy Cabbage Patch (Geoffrey something).  When May 15th came, and Anna had her birthday, there was ADORABLE red-headed Maude at her party, and I was soooooo jealous!  I had to wait until July 26th to get my turn!  The next day, Nathan hatched a plan (he was much like his A-team hero, Hannibal).  He and I would rake the yard (it was freshly mowed) without being asked and then request our dolls early (his was super early, his birthday wasn't until January).  I don't know if the sight of 2 little kids trying to earn her favor caused my mom to cave, or if she was planning all along to let us have them early, but she agreed to let us open our precious dolls that day.  I can still remember exactly how it felt to hold a new doll for the first time after she was finally freed from her package (remember those early oddly shaped Cabbage Patch boxes?  The top was smaller than the bottom, so you had to open the doll from the bottom.).  Those Cabbage Patches were our hands-down FAVORITE toys for many years.  I am so sad that I do not have a picture of me with Catalina to share with you here. 


Those were my preschool years!  Not a great deal of happenings, but that is how life goes, quite often.  I remember a good number of golden days and fun at home with my parents and my siblings.

My name is Gretchen Brooke -- Chapter one in my life story

This is chapter one in my life story, which I'm linking up at Mommy's Piggy Tales, where we're writing 15 parts to our story.

As I began to think about how to write this first chapter of my life, I was overcome with sadness thinking about my mom. Looking at the tiny pictures of frail, newborn Gretchen makes my heart long for and hurt for my mother. I was a baby my parents waited and waited and prayed for, and yet when I finally came, there was sorrow mixed with the joy. Let me tell you what happened.



My mom and dad prayed for a child for 7 years of their marriage, and the Lord answered their prayers by giving them my brother, through adoption. When he was only 9 months old, my mom found out she was pregnant with me! Here is a picture of her pregnant with me and posed with my brother Nathan and Aunt Pat. From what mom told me, her first pregnancy was fairly easy, though coffee made her a bit nauseous (I know because it made me sick with Susie, and Mom told me how she once had to turn away from a coffee commercial!). I arrived exactly a month before my due date, after 30-some hours of labor (in the midst of Pete Rose's hitting streak in 1978, my dad has told me). The pages and pages of paper documenting Mom's contractions my dad referred to as "wallpaper for the baby's room" because there were so many! Finally, the doctor did a c-section, and I was born, 6 lbs, 2 ounces (amazingly, my daughter Susie was 6 lbs 2.7 ounces!!).

I'm not sure how quickly my condition was discovered, but pretty soon they could see I was born with a congenital heart defect -- a narrowing and lengthening of the aortic valve, and I was struggling for life. At 4 days, I underwent open heart surgery -- a clipping and mending of the valve, something that is almost never done anymore. As a child my mom told me stories about the tiny baby I was, fighting for life. The nurses called me "spider monkey" because I was long and skinny -- and spirited. They had to tie down my hands so I didn't pull the needles out of my head, and I would kick and kick and kick the one leg that was free -- dressed only in a diaper and one sock. Oh, I am so thankful I have these memories of Mom telling me these stories! How frightened my poor mother must have been! I can only imagine the fear related to watching your tiny baby go through something that drastic. On this day last year, my sister in law went through something similar as her newborn had exploratory brain surgery. I spent the day clutching my newborn Susie and praying through my tears, my mind fathoming how Kari could be feeling for her child to have such a surgery. That was my taste of my mom's experience -- not the same, I know, but even that close was incredibly intense!

I chose one of my favorite pictures of my mom holding me to post on here. Because of the situation surrounding my birth, there are very few pictures of me as a newborn, and even fewer of my mom with me. But this picture is dated 8-1-1978, which would have been the day after my surgery. Mom is feeding me a bottle, but I know she was a dedicated nurser, so I imagine this was breastmilk that she had pumped (though I'm not sure). How glad she must have been to be able to hold her new baby! She herself would have been recovering from her surgery (I know how that felt!), and probably dealing with the hormones and the real emotions as well.

Though I can't quite relate with the depth of her experience, I can relate with some of how she felt -- she was 31 when she had me, and I was about to turn 31 when I had Sus. She had been married for over 8 years, and I celebrated my 8th anniversary in the hospital with a newborn in my arms. She had prayed for a child, and I did the same, for many years. I know how much my mother cherished her children, and I feel the exact same way about my wee girl.

My parents chose the name Gretchen Brooke for me (and my last name was Benzing -- amazingly enough, my pediatric cardiologist was named George Benzing! We were distant relatives). If I were a boy, I would have been Nicholas (they kept that name on deck for the next 3 girls as well, but never got the chance to use it!). Gretchen was chosen because I have an ancestor in Germany whose name was Margretta, and Gretchen is a form of that name. I think my mom must have just liked it. Brooke was after a dear friend of my mother's, Brooke Riddle. She had taught in public school with Mom, and was a godly Christian woman who knew how to open her home and make everyone feel right at home. Mom made sure I knew why I was named after Brooke -- she did have an extraordinary gift for hospitality. . . and still does to this day! I always loved Brooke Riddle, and loved my name as well.

The last picture I'm sharing is of the day I finally came home from the hospital. I'm laying my Aunt Sandy's lap, and my Aunt Kay is sitting on the couch next to her, holding my cousin Rachel. I just love the way Mom is crouching by the couch talking to Sandy about me. It reminds me of those early days with Sus, and sitting on the couch with my sister Abby, enjoying the tiny newborn in every possible aspect!

I received excellent care at Cincinnati Children's Hospital and continued to have good reports from Dr. Benzing throughout my life. My heart defect never slowed me down participating in sports in childhood, or in my adult life, carrying a baby to term and going through labor. What a mighty God we serve who can not only heal a frail tiny baby, but strengthen the hearts of their parents to trust in Him as they helplessly stand by and watch. I saw this last year with my nephew Sawyer, and know it was true for my parents as well.

Susie

Can't believe it's been almost a week since I posted. We've had LOTS going on with traveling! Just wanted to put up a couple pictures.

This is my mom, Susie, as a baby. She's a cutie!

And here is my Susie!!

They look quite alike!! This is the best match I could find, picture-wise, since Sus doesn't stand on her own yet. She actually looks more like the Susie in the first picture in real life.

That's it for now! Off and running and getting ready for Abby's graduation! I've got lots of books to write about, but those will have to wait until later, I guess.

Books My Mother Read

If there ever was a read-aloud queen, it was my mom. She was the poster mother for reading to your children, beginning young, and continuing far past the years when they could read for themselves. Hundreds of golden days were spent with her voice reading stories out loud to her children. I chose a few to share today for Feed Me Books Friday.

The Poky Little Puppy -- who doesn't know this classic? But it is one of the very earliest books I remember. To this day, the sight of a strawberry growing in the grass jars my thoughts to the Poky Puppy's discovery of the strawberry. Last night Susie and I found strawberries growing out our back door, which prompted me to try again with a paper-page book. She was pretty distracted and grabby on the pages, but I tried again while feeding her breakfast this morning. It went GREAT! She was attentive most of the time while I held the book in my left hand, and fed her yogurt with my right. She munched on some Cheerios with her eyes glued to the illustrations. I was so excited to see her progress! This may need to be a morning ritual. Anyway, the Poky Little Puppy is a great mother's day choice, of course, because the Mama dog (who is never pictured in the book), is the moral guiding force. . . that is to say, she teaches her puppies right from wrong -- and they learn their lessons! I remember being EVER so disappointed for Poky Puppy having to go to bed without strawberry shortcake. My mom did a great job emphasizing what a tragedy that was and how Poky Puppy should have just obeyed in the first place!

2. Chicken Soup with Rice -- this is a family fave! Mom must have read this to us a zillion times, because as a toddler, my brother could recite the rhymes "paddle once, paddle twice, paddle chicken soup with rice". If you aren't familiar with this old book, I'll just tell you that it is a book of months, with each month telling you that chicken soup with rice was just the thing to eat! We begged Mom to get this kind of soup at the store (even though I remember not really loving the soup. . . I just wanted it because of the book). Maurice Sendak does the extraordinary illustrations. Here I have January, one side the words, one side the picture. Warning -- this book is addictive! I could read it a million times and recite the rhymes over and over. It's GREAT for preschoolers learning the months of the year, for early readers (because of the repetitive language) and just for fun! Grab a can of Campbells and break out this book for a special lunch time!


3. Poinsettia and Her Family -- written by Felicia Bond, of "If you give a Mouse/Moose/Pig" fame, this out of print book is a gold mine of ADORABLE pictures. I can only say I am too sad Amazon doesn't have the cover image available. I gave this book to my mom for Christmas about 4 years ago, because I'd found a used copy and I knew she's be thrilled. We used to get the Poinsettia books from the library as kids, and Mom could relate to poor Poinsettia who was just looking for a quiet place to read her book, but her house was full of siblings lying around "like seals". I've been searching for a link to show you some illustrations from the book, but you'll just have to take me on blind faith. Look for this oldie-but-goodie at the library!!

My Mother's Eyes

Abby with Mom on her last mother's day on earth

Mom had green eyes. When she wore contacts, she sometimes ordered the tinted ones to make them more green. She wore those hard contact lenses that almost no-one wears anymore. She had to buy special cleaning solution that was not cheap.

Mom's eyesight was always poor. She got glasses as a little girl, so all her childhood yearbook photos were just a little bit geeky. She had those really cool cat-eye glasses in junior high, but when she'd look back at those pictures she said those glasses were awful (I like them).

When I was in 4th grade, the eye doctor said "Oh, mom, she has eyes like yours." He had finished examining my siblings, but when he came to me, he discovered I needed glasses. I remember his words so clearly "she has eyes like yours" -- I actually felt flattered about that. It meant something special, in my 9-year-old mind. So I went off to pick my first pair of glasses (and if you think 1950's lenses for children were bad, then please take a look at what the 1980's had to offer us!); they were blue/clear plastic frames. It was great to be able to see clearly.

I remember Mom mentioning that she'd like to have corrective surgery so that she could just jump up in the morning and see right away (years later I totally understand this). One time when Anna and I had a sleepover, we were being a bit loud in the basement, and Mom jumped out of bed, grabbed her glasses and came down to let us know. But we all had a hard time taking her seriously because she'd grabbed her sunglasses. She burst out laughing along with us.

Mom wore contacts the majority of my life, and her in glasses was equivalent to her being sick or having just woke up. Then in 2006, she had a big scare with her eyes when one of the retinas detached and that eye went blind. She had corrective surgery and had to spend days with her head parallel with the floor. Then she had the surgery on the other eye, because it was about to detach. Then the same eye detached again, and she had the surgery again. That last time she had to keep her head down for something like 2 weeks. She could only get up momentarily to go to the bathroom. I remember how her poor sore eye looked when my dad put the medicine in it when she got up. I felt so bad for her during these times. She was such a trooper, watching tv with a mirror on the floor, or listening to audio books or even reading with her one good eye!

The sad thing was that Mom had to wear glasses all the time during this time, and I know she disliked it. She did look different, not her usual contact-Mom self. And when she was able to go back to contacts, her eyes suffered a bit from the surgeries and one of them was rather squintier than the other.

But when she would look at you with an excited face, her eyes lit up just the same. I can still picture her sitting on the love seat in the living room, talking to me with eyes lit up.

Mom had a beautiful smile. People often commented about her infectious smile, but I think it really was her eyes smiling that was so infectious. It's sweet to me to think that God gave her those eyes, with all their defects and they were used to bring so much joy to others.

Those eyes laughed at thousands of childish antics. They poured over millions of pages of books and magazines. Those eyes looked right into the eyes of a toddler, issuing instructions for obedience. They closely examined stitches in quilts, samplers and her own sewing. They conveyed love to her family. They poured out tears at the drop of a hat -- in joy or sorrow or pity or empathy.

When Mom died, we found that she had wanted to be a donor. Most of her body we weren't able to donate because of a small spot of skin cancer from years ago, but we were able to donate her eyes. Those eyes. Oh, they gave her such trouble, but what tools they were for helping others. And selflessly she gave them away, helping others after she no longer had use for them herself.

Now when I think of the optometrist saying my eyes were like Mom's, I can only think "I hope so!"