When my older sister, Cheryl got married, she and her husband moved to Keeseville, New York. There was a changing of the guard, so to speak, at our house. Since Cheryl was the oldest, she was always in charge when our parents weren’t at home, but when Cheryl married, the responsibility shifted to me. I’m sure that if you ask my younger sisters, they would tell you that I…maybe took the power a little too seriously…you know…bossy!! Well, maybe extremely bossy. I wasn’t a very patient person back then, so my little sisters quickly learned not to mess with me much. That kind of power can make a person push all their work on to those people who are in a position whereby they have to obey. That was where my little sisters were.
Oh, it wasn’t a constant thing, and my sisters and I had some very good times together, but as anyone who has ever been in charge of their younger siblings can tell you, being the one in charge does have its up side, and that upside is all about getting out of the work of cleaning the house. Ok, ok…I know it wasn’t probably the nicest thing to do, but I was a kid after all.
That was a long time ago, and we have all grown up. My sisters have long since forgiven me for my big power grab, and we are friends now, but that was a rough time for them…or maybe I wasn’t so different from any other teenager who was in charge of the younger kids while their parents were at work or out for the evening. I like to think that the later is closer to the truth, but I’m also sure my little sisters will still say that I was horrible. All I can say is that it couldn’t have been so bad…I mean, after all, I did let them live!!
When you are a young person, you can look ahead to the future, and in your minds eye, you see how things will happen just the way you plan or expect them to be. You have no doubt in your mind that you will become what you plan, do the things you plan to do, go the places you plan to go. It is all up to you. It is your life to plan and live as you choose. Then comes the inevitable curve ball. The moment when everything changes. Your world turns upside down, and the things that seemed important before, aren’t anymore. It can be almost anything, from the loss or serious illness of a parent, as it was in my case, to a car accident, to a unplanned baby, to…well, you get the idea. And in reality, most of us have several of these moments that come to pass in our lives, that are life altering, sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse, and sometimes…just different than you had expected.
I have had several life altering moments in my life, as have most people, such as falling in love with my husband, and choosing to have children and marriage instead of finishing my college education, which changed my future from a teaching career to the one I now have, which is as an insurance agent. For those who know me, you know that my new career choice and the current boss that I have at that job have made all the difference as other life altering changes have occurred.
For me the biggest and most traumatic curve ball, came when my dad became ill with Pancreatitis on October 1, 2005, in Canada. My sisters and I drove straight through to Canada, and spent the next 2 weeks at his bedside in Canada until he could be transferred by Life Flight to Wyoming Medical Center. After 4 months and 4 surgeries, Dad was finally able to come home. It would be a long recovery. It was during that time that I found out what my second calling was. I was able to understand the medical jargon and so, became one of his main caregivers. My mother would get sick during that same time with a Brain Tumor, that is gone now. Later my in-laws would be added to my caregiving tasks. My father-in-law has Emphysema and my mother-in-law has Alzheimer’s Disease.
After 7 years of caregiving, I am quite sure I could have been a nurse, except that being a caregiver for elderly people is very hard on your emotions. You know you are fighting a losing battle, and your efforts are only holding off the inevitable. I am not sorry to have taken the journey that my curve ball has taken me on, and it is very rewarding when you win a health battle, even if it is only a temporary win. Looking back, later on, I will always know that I did the best I could do, I gave the very best that I could give, and hopefully, 4 lives were made better through my efforts, and those of the team of people who help me every day.
The rush is over, the gifts given, dinner is over, and for most of us…it’s back to work. In many ways, that comes as a relief to me because there are just times that you need to go back to work to rest up. And some holidays are worse than others, some years worse than others. There are some times when you feel like everything went so smoothly that you wish the day would not end so quickly. Then, there are those when you think, “Are we done yet?” The headache won’t go away, and you are so tired you can’t walk another step. Holidays when you think to yourself, “Why am I doing this again? Oh, that’s right, It’s for the kids.” And that is really is true, I think…or is it still that kid inside us all.
Even if the actual holiday or even the days leading up to it are hectic, we still find ourselves excited for it’s arrival. The gifts have been bought, and it is our hope that the person we bought them for will be very excited about our choices. We have planned the meal and with our mouth watering, we anticipate meal time’s arrival. After the meal, we are almost…or maybe we just are…too tired to even think of the cleanup, and secretly we hope that someone else will clean it up for us…but of course, they don’t. There is no cleaning fairy to do it. It’s up to you.
We drag ourselves to bed that night and think, “I’ll clean up tomorrow.” Then tomorrow arrives, and we wish that we had cleaned up last night, because we don’t feel any more like doing it today than we did yesterday. In fact, the looming cleanup job makes us tired all over. So we head off to work and hope that with enough coffee, we can somehow find the energy to get the job done when we get home. I don’t know about you, but, that day after a holiday is one tough day to swallow, so I’m sure glad that I have lots of help with it these days, and that there is very little clean up left for that day after.
For most people, Christmas is a time of family, friends, and gifts. It’s about showing our loved ones how we feel about them. We gather together and make a big meal, open our gifts, laugh and talk, and in general, enjoy a day off, and all that is great, but sometimes we let ourselves get too caught up in all that, and we forget what Christmas really is about. This day is the birth of our Lord and Savior, Jesus. So many people have politicized this. You aren’t supposed to say Merry Christmas even, because someone might be upset…it might offend them and their religion. But, the reality is that my faith has nothing to do with their religion. I believe in the God of Israel, Jehovah God, because I have seen His grace, mercy, and power at work in my life. It isn’t about my God is bigger than yours, it is about me and my family, and what He has done for us.
As a kid, growing up, I had heard of Christians being persecuted. I thought that must have been something that happened many years ago, because I never experienced anything like that…until the past few years. Suddenly, almost as if I just woke up one day, and found out that Christians and Jews are public enemy number 1. I didn’t change anything. I didn’t throw my faith in anyone’s face, but suddenly they are trying their best to force me out. That is something I just don’t understand. The Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, and even the Atheists are allowed to display their symbols, just not people of Christian or Jewish faiths. I don’t understand that. Don’t we have freedom of religion here? Don’t we have the right to practice our faith as we see fit? It is still our Constitutional right…like it or not.
So, today, Christmas Day, I will not give in to political correctness, but I will use my Constitutional rights to freedom of speech and freedom of religion to practice my faith and celebrate Christmas both with my family and the giving and receiving of gifts, but more 
importantly with a grateful heart. Grateful to my wonderful God, who saw that I would need a Savior, Jesus, because the wages of sin is death and a price had to be paid. Jesus came to Earth, lived a sinless life, and paid that price on the cross, so that I could be saved and have eternal life. There was nothing I had to do but believe in Jesus as my Savior, and there was nothing I could do to get to Heaven on my own. The cross was enough. The debt was paid. How can I not celebrate Christmas, and how can I call it anything but Christmas? I simply can’t. It is not about politics, or whether or not others believe as I do. It is what I believe. Merry Christmas to All, and thank you Jesus, for coming to Earth to save us.
Christmas Eve in 1927 was a special Christmas Eve…at least to my mom’s soon to be large family. That was the day her parents were married. What started with two young people is love, has grown in those 85 years to a family of more than 300 people. There are new babies being born all the time. I know that if Grandma and Grandpa could see their family now, they would be very pleased, but I don’t suppose they would necessarily be surprised. They were surprised at one time, however…or at least in awe.
I recall their 50th wedding anniversary in 1977. By that time I was married and had two daughters, so I was one of those who were growing the family. It was a wonderful party. Our family has a family Christmas party every year, but this one was very special. We were celebrating the patriarchs of the family…the ones who, at least in our remembrance, started it all. Grandma and Grandpa looked great. They were so happy, but then that was nothing 
new. They had been happy all their lives together. They celebrated life and the joy of living every day of their lives together. Singing could often be heard in their home, as well as the continuing laughter of the little children and grandchildren that loved to spend time in their home.
At that special party in 1977, I recall Grandpa and Grandma’s glowing faces, as they looked at each other. You could tell that theirs was an everlasting love…a love that grew bigger with each passing year, and each additional member. They were so happy and they felt so blessed. Their marriage had been such a happy 
one, and their family had grown to such an amazing size, seemingly overnight. The conversation turned to the size of the family, and Grandpa looked at Grandma and said, “Mommy, look what we started!” He was amazed on that day at the bigness of the family, because when you think about it, who really expects or thinks about how big their family will be, when they are a young couple just starting out. Yes, Grandpa was right. They had started something great on that special Christmas Eve 85 years ago today.
My cousin sent me some pictures a couple of days ago and boy, did they bring back some memories. One in particular struck me, mostly because of the difference in the times…and the things you can and can’t do today. My dad’s brother, Bill and his family used to come for visits, and we would go there for visits when we were little kids. One of our favorite things to do was to picnic on Casper Mountain. It is a beautiful place and it’s nearby. We have always loved going on the mountain. The summer air is cooler there, and fresh with the smells of pine. The birds are singing and the breeze whispers through the tree tops. I could stay up there for a long time.
Back then, Dad had an old green pickup truck, and whenever we all went somewhere in the truck, all of us kids got to ride in the back of the truck. Now, I know that people don’t usually ride in the back of a truck any more, and maybe it isn’t the safest idea, but back then it was the normal way to go. On any given day, you might see a dozen or more people driving around with the kids in the back of the truck, and I don’t remember ever hearing about anyone getting hurt or killed, although I’m sure it happened. Nevertheless, when we were going to go up on the mountain, they loaded all of us kids up in the back of the truck and the adults in front. And away we went.
We had a great time riding back there, with the wind in our hair…and none of us cared if our hair was a wreck after that ride either. Dad would drive up the mountain, and then 
stop at Lookout Point so we could see how beautiful the city was from up there. The night views were the best of course, because the city lights always looked like a jewelry box. The picnic and the city views were great, but I will always remember the wonderful rides in the back of Dad’s truck, probably because we got to do more of those. Of course, looking back, and knowing the safety risks today, I wouldn’t let my kids or grandkids ride there, but we didn’t know that then, and I guess God just watched out for us, because we obviously lived through it. Kind of like not having seat belts in the car, and rolling onto the floor at a sudden stop. We didn’t think of it being unsafe…just funny. I guess it was just the times we lived in.
Many of the school children in Wyoming have had the unique opportunity to take a field trip to Fort Laramie, but most people didn’t go there as a family trip. My family, or I should say, my parents, liked a lot of things about the old west, especially any historical sites or trails. Over the years, we went to many of the sites around Wyoming and the surrounding states. Living in Casper, we have seen Fort Caspar, of course, but there have also been trips to Fort Laramie. One such trip, taken after I was married, and so not including my sister Cheryl or me…something that probably didn’t bother us then, but now, looking back, I’m sorry I didn’t get to go…mostly because Dad’s knowledge of the history of these places, and his love of teasing or role playing at these places always made things interesting. Dad would pretend to be one of the soldiers, or a trapper, or a shop keeper, so that he could pull us into the history of the place…hoping to pique our interest in the rich history of the area we live in. Most of the time, at least as we grew into our teens, his efforts failed to do much for us, other than maybe get a laugh if he was really acting funny, but as the years have gone by, I find myself very interested in the history of our great nation.
Fort Laramie, for example, was originally established as a private fur trading fort in 1834, but later evolved into the largest and best known military post on the Northern Plains, before it was abandoned in 1890. It was originally named Fort William after it’s founder William Sublette, and was purchased in 1841 by the American Fur Company and renamed Fort John. In 1949, it was purchased by the United States Army to protect the many wagon trains of migrant travelers on the Oregon Trail. At that time it was known as Fort John on the Laramie River, which later became Fort John-Laramie, and finally Fort Laramie. As a side note, the Laramie River was named after Jacques La Ramee. In 1815 or 1816, Jacques and a small group of fellow trappers settled in the area where Fort Laramie would later be located. He went out alone to trap in 1819 or 1820 and was never seen again. Arapaho Indians were subsequently accused of killing La Ramee and putting his body in a beaver dam. The river was named “Laramie” in his honor, and the name would later be given to the Laramie Mountains, the fort, and the towns of Laramie, Wyoming and Fort Laramie, Wyoming.
Today, I find all that history very interesting, but as a kid, history seemed like dry memorization of names and dates. Now I think I wouldn’t have minded living in those exciting times, or maybe just have the ability to travel back in time once in a while to see what The Old West was all about. I suppose I am a little too tech-minded to really have enjoyed that more primitive time for very long. Nevertheless, I guess my dad accomplished his goals with me. I do love the history of The Old West.
Isaac, who is the youngest son of my niece, Jenny and her husband, Steve, has always seemed like the quiet one. Don’t let that fool you into thinking that Isaac isn’t all boy. He and his brothers are very rough and tumble. They are always wrestling around, and playing all the tough boy games that boys love. Issac may be the youngest of the 3 boys, but he is no quitter. He will take on his big brothers in any game.
There is one area of Isaac’s life that requires a little bit of a softer touch, however. That is in the area of his little baby sister, Aleesia. You can’t play rough with babies, and Isaac is definitely up for that challenge. Isaac has been the baby of the family for a long time, and he wanted to be the big brother for quite a while now. His big brothers got to be big brothers and now…finally it was his turn. And, think Isaac is doing a wonderful job as big brother.
For now Isaac and his big brothers will have to be gentle with Aleesia, because she is just a little girl, but I think she might want to get busy and grown up tough, because I think the day will come when they will decide that she can handle their type of play. Girls with brothers do tend to be tomboys sometimes…at least until their teens. Then I think Isaac will find himself in charge of making sure nobody picks on her…self appointed in charge.
Isaac is an all around good brother and tough guy, because being the youngest of 3 boys demands that you be able to handle yourself. I remember when he was pretty little, and the older boys still wrestled around with him. I guess with brothers, it’s get tough or cry. Now, mind you, they weren’t mean. It’s just that boys will be boys, and Isaac needed to figure that out right away. And it worked out really well, because all the boys are good friends, and on one thing they all agree…their sister, Aleesia is the best sister a guy could ever ask for. And I think Isaac is the best big brother a girl could ever ask for too.
My mom and her siblings have always had a close relationship, and even if their lives have become busy enough at times, so that it became almost impossible to see each other very often, they maintained a lasting love for their siblings and their spouses. Of course, as with most families, the older siblings and their spouses had more in common with each other than with the younger siblings. Because of that, my family spent more time with my Aunt Evelyn and Uncle George’s family, since my cousins, my older sister and I were close to the same ages. That said, I remember going out to Aunt Evelyn and Uncle George’s house to play, and always having a great time. Maybe it was that I was so young, or maybe it was because everything always seemed more fun at someone else’s house, but we always had the greatest time.
My Uncle George was always a soft spoken man…at least when I was around. I’m sure that having 5 kids of their own, all feisty, could make a man raise his voice once in a while, but I don’t recall that happening while I was there. I always liked their house, because it seemed so unusual. They had built it themselves, and it had cool and unusual, at least at that time, doorways, which were arched, and a fireplace, which our house didn’t have. There were lots of other things about their house, their own design that I liked too, but I don’t recall what all they were now. It’s been a long time since I have been through their house. All I know is that we always had great adventures out there.
My Uncle George is a handsome man…the kind you think of when you say, tall, dark and handsome, so I can see why my aunt was attracted to him, but there was so much 
more to him than that. I always loved his quiet laugh, and his gentle ways. He was always so nice. Today, my uncle is 88 years old. He has been a member of my mom’s family longer than any other spouse, and like my Aunt Sandy always says, he is more like a brother than a brother-in-law to her and I’m sure most of the kids. He is the oldest living member of the family now, sort of the man of the family, since grandpa passed away, back in 1980. His childhood was without a family of his own, because he was raised in the State Children’s Home, but for the last 65 years, he has belonged to us…and we are very, very happy about that. Happy birthday Uncle George!! Have a wonderful day!! We all love you very much!!
Yesterday I attended the funeral of my 4th and 6th grade teacher. She was my absolute favorite teacher in grade school, and I had the distinct pleasure and was greatly blessed to get her as my teacher for 2 years, because she switched from 4th to 6th grades the year I got to 6th grade. The strange thing was that I didn’t know she was the same teacher…at least until that first day, because since her first husband had died, she had remarried. So the first time I had her, she was Mrs Clark, and the second time I had her, she was Mrs Lloyd. Her name didn’t matter to me, all I cared about was the fact that I got to have my beloved teacher for yet another year. Nevertheless, I still had trouble remembering that she was Mrs Lloyd now.
While Mrs Lloyd’s name gave me trouble, I had no trouble loving my teacher. She was like everyone’s second mom. The things she said to you were genuine…straight from her heart. She always looked for the best in her students, and she expected to find good traits in each and every one of her students. Because of her faith in her students, as well as her genuine love for each one, we all tried our very hardest to make her proud of us, and because of her encouragement, we knew that we could do whatever we set our mind to. Mrs Clark-Lloyd made us feel like there was nothing we couldn’t do.
The years since I was in 4th or 6th grade have passed quickly by, but my memories of my favorite grade school teacher have never faded. I could see her face in my memory all those years. I think we all have one or more teachers who inspired us to do our very best, and their lessons don’t fade as the years go by. Mrs Clark-Lloyd was one of those great teachers. Over the years, this tiny woman always seemed larger than life to me. She was like an angel of the human kind, who’s faith in God inspired her to instill faith in her students…faith in God and themselves.
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