love
Father’s Day is a little harder for me these days, because both my dad, Allen Spencer and my father-in-law, Walt Schulenberg are in Heaven now. I think in many ways, my mind, in an effort to protect me from sad feelings, simply refuses to wrap itself around the coming day, and then suddenly the night before, I realize that there are three other dads in my life. While they are not my dads, they are my children’s dad, and my grandchildren’s dads. And they are good dads…every one of them. When I look at the job they did being dads to those kids, each one staying with the family through the good and the bad times, I realize just how very blessed my children, grandchildren, and I have been. In our families, and in the families that Bob and I grew up in, there were no absentee dads and no deadbeat dads, there was simply Dad…the man who was always there for us…not matter what we needed, no matter what mistakes we made, and no matter how messed up we were at times in our lives. When they signed on as dads, they meant it. They signed on for life, 
and they made our lives wonderful in every way. Sometimes, I wonder just what I did to deserve such a great blessing, and then I remember that blessings are very seldom deserved…they are a gift. Every day, and in every way, these men in my life are such a great blessing to me and to my family.
While my dad and my father-in-law are in Heaven now, I can honestly say that the lessons they both taught each of us…their children, children-in-law, grandchildren, and great grandchildren are lessons that will guide us skillfully through the trying times that every life must go through. Of course, I wish they were still here, because the longer I live on this Earth, the more questions I seem to have. My questions about how to handle things in life have largely been answered now, because they were good dads, but my questions about the past have not. Questions about the war, grandparents, great grandparents, and family history are still out there, many of them completely unanswered, and I have no way to get them answered now. There are so many stories I haven’t heard, and so much information I don’t have…and now I have no way to ever find out. I think about how much I miss them now, and it makes my heart sad.
For the rest of the dads in my life, today is a day to celebrate, and to be thankful that we have them in our lives. I am thankful for each of these men, because they have been wonderful dads. They have passed on to their children, all the wisdom, knowledge, and common sense that they have, along with the humor needed to get through any life. Their laughter has enriched our lives so much. If we can give back even a fraction of the blessing they have given to us, then we have accomplished great things. Happy Father’s Day to the dads in my life. I hope you all have a wonderful day.
My Aunt Virginia Beadle, my mom’s second to the oldest sister, was born in 1930 in the middle of the worst depression in United States history. Unemployment had increased from 1.3 million in October 1929 to 3.2 million by March 1930. Money was scarce, and people had to make due with what they had. Of course, like any parent knows, children don’t wait until you can afford them, and in those days people had large families. My Aunt Virginia was the second of nine children born to her parents, George and Hattie Byer. Like most families, the children can have very different features, while still looking very much like brothers and sisters. Such was the case for my aunts and uncles. They all looked different, and yet very much like siblings.
Some of my aunts were tall…or at least to me they were. Their dad, was over six feet tall, so it stands to reason that some of the girls would inherit his height, or at least a little of it. My mom was 5’6″ and some of her sisters were taller, but Aunt Virginia wasn’t one of those. She took after her mother in height. My grandmother was 5 feet tall in her tall days, and I would guess that Aunt Virginia was no more than 5’2″ tall. I think though, that the thing that always stood out to me about Aunt Virginia was her dark hair. I always felt like it must look like shining black silk. Some of my mom’s siblings were blondes and some brunettes…some even dark brunette, but I think Aunt Virginia’s hair was the darkest, and it gave her an exotic look in my mind.
These days, my Aunt Virginia is even smaller than she was before. When I saw her at the cemetery on Memorial Day, at my parents graves where she and her sister, my Aunt Sandy Pattan were coming to add their decorations to ours on my parents graves, it occurred to me just what a tiny woman she is. I am only 5’2″, but I felt so tall next to her. Still, there was enough love inside her to fill up a much bigger person than she was. The love overflows, Aunt Virginia, as it does all of my aunts and uncles. Maybe that is what makes them all seem so much alike. Today is my Aunt Virginia’s 86th birthday. Happy birthday Aunt Virginia!! Have a wonderful day!! We love you!!
For those who have lost a veteran, in war or in peace, every day is a day to remember them. We loved them and now they are gone. We will forever miss them. Brave soldiers all, went out to right a wrong…to make the sacrifice necessary to make our nation free, and to fight oppression in our world. Some came home after serving their country and somehow managing to stay alive…against all odds, but some did not, and instead paid the ultimate price…their lives. All were brave soldiers, who knew what was being asked of them, knew the possibilities, and yet they went anyway, knowing that when they left home to serve, they might not be returning. They felt a calling to serve, and they bravely answered the call. Without the brave soldiers who have answered that call over 
the years, evil would have completely overtaken our world. There is still much evil out there, but it is our prayers and our soldiers that help to keep it at bay.
I am one of the fortunate ones. My dad and other loved ones came home from their wars. I have never felt the sting of losing a soldier in battle, but I have known those who have, and it breaks my heart for them. Each of them bravely moves forward with their lives, carrying with them the memories of their loved one, lost in battle. Little routines like jewelry with their loved one’s name on it, a decal on their car, or a flag in their yard, remind them of their loved one…somehow keeping them close, even though they are gone. They visit the grave, some to talk to their loved one, others to simply sit and reminisce about the past, but all do the things they do for the same reason…to remember their brave soldier, so tragically lost to the ravages of war.
Whether we have lost someone in battle, or our soldier died after leading a long life, each day that is set aside to remember their service is a special day to us. 
It doesn’t mean that we don’t enjoy the day off or have a barbeque…it just means that we really think about the reasons that we are free to do these things. My own dad loved barbeques, drives to the lake or the mountains, and camping on the long weekends, so why would we not do those things now that he is living in Heaven. Nevertheless, we also take flowers, spinners, wind chimes, and of course, a flag to place on my parents grave, as well as the graves of all our other loved ones. It is a tradition that keeps them in our remembrance, and after all, the most important part of Memorial Day is to remember those we have lost, especially our brave soldiers. So today, we salute all of our soldiers, living and dead. We thank you for your brave service. We will never forget. Happy Memorial Day to all.
This morning, at my office, my granddaughter, Shai Royce was telling our co-worker, Carrie Beauchamp and me about a friend of hers who made her dinner last night, and just how good it was. They had baked chicken, and apparently it was amazing. Then, she said that the same friend was going to make her homemade Macaroni and Cheese. Well, that got the conversation on food going. I mentioned just how good, homemade Macaroni and Cheese was because it used real cheese, and not the powder or fake cheese. From there, it was a free for all. We talked about our favorite foods….like Lobster Mac and Cheese from Outback Steakhouse or Kentucky Fried Chicken, but for me, none could compare to my Mom’s cooking.
My very favorite food was my mom’s fried chicken. Oh my gosh…Mom made the best fried chicken on this planet. It was so good, that you couldn’t help but overeat. I 
suppose that in the arena of dieting that is the reality for most of us these days, this wasn’t such a great subject to get on, but it sure brought back the memories of meals at home, when I was a kid…filled with energy, and no need to watch what I ate. I remember so many of the meals at home. Tuna Casserole, made as only my mom could, was always a big hit. I could eat the whole pan of it, if my sisters hadn’t felt the need to eat too. Of course, Mom’s fried chicken could not be topped…not even by Colonel Sanders at KFC, and I do like KFC. Holiday dinners were so good, and we ate so much that all we could do afterward was to lay on the couch to let it settle. Sunday breakfasts were always a special treat. The whole house smelled of bacon and eggs, and our stomachs growled waiting for that moment when we could all 
sit down to eat. I miss those times. Those were the days when all was well with our world, and we, as kids, still innocently thought it always would be.
Those were the true days of Comfort Food. Days when we could eat anything we wanted, and Mom’s cooking was by far the best. In fact, nobody else’s cooking could compare. Whenever we hear of the word, Comfort Food these days, we immediately think of some frozen dinner that is being advertised, but real Comfort Food…well, that came from our mothers’ kitchens, because there is more to Comfort Food than just the food. There is great comfort in knowing that our parents love us and want to provide for us in the best possible way. The meals they provide are their way of showing just how big their love for us is. Without the love that our mothers, or anyone else who loved us that much, put into each and every meal, there would be no comfort to it. It would just be food.
Yesterday in church, my pastor said something about big bear hugs, talking about him, his brothers, or his kids doing that very thing. My mind quickly flew back in time to when one or the other of my kids or grandkids used to give me one of those big bear hugs…usually accompanied by a kiss, that sometimes ended up being more like a lip lock. It was really their way of showing the depth of their love for me…kind of like the old saying…I love you this much, with arms spread wide, except that those arms were locked around you, or more likely, around your face. The thought warmed my heart, because of course, for now, those days are gone. The kids and grandkids are all grown, up, and while I still get a kiss and a hug, they aren’t usually the lip lock/bear hug kind. They are a little too refined for that now, and in some ways, that makes me a little bit sad. Those years fly by so fast, and yet at the time, we seem to have the idea that they will be little for a really long time. It isn’t until they grow up, move out, and sometimes, move away, that we realize just how much we will miss those days during which they were little and their love for us was shown in a very exuberant way.
My thoughts drifted back to when my daughter, Amy Royce used to take a strong hold of my face and give me a kiss that practically made her whole body shake, and to when her son, Caalab used to hug me so hard that, even though he was a little guy, I’m not sure I could have pulled away. They both live so far away now, that I see them, maybe a couple of times a year, so even if they were of a mind to hand out a bear hug, they would be too far away for me to receive it. I suppose they would feel kind of funny about that now anyway, but they certainly didn’t back then…especially Caalab. He was the kind of kid who didn’t care who saw that he loved his grandma, or his mom, or anyone else that he cared about. He would hug them anyway…that great big bear hug. A hug that locked you in his strong arms, and didn’t let you go until he was ready, but while there was 
some teasing, just to show how strong he was, it was all in good natured fun, and tempered with the love that always existed for his grandma, mom, sister, or anyone else he loved.
I find that I miss those childhood years a whole lot, both with my girls and my grandchildren. Nevertheless, they must grow up, and make their own way in this world. Their plans, dreams, and choices will be different than mine, but that does not make them wrong. It has to be their life…lived their way. They know where I am, and that I will always be here for them. I’m so proud of each and every one of them, but I must admit that I do miss those bear hugs and lip locks.
As I walked in to my bedroom today, my gaze landed on a bottle of perfume that sits on a shelf there. The bottle then took me back to my childhood years, because it always reminds me of the loving things my dad did for my mom. Evening In Paris Perfume by Bourjois, was a beautiful floral fragrance created by Ernest Beaux in 1928. It was reformulated by perfumers Jaques Polge and Francois Demachier, nearly fifty years later. The top notes are bergamot, apricot and peach, green notes and violet. The floral heart is composed of rose damascena, jasmine, heliotrope, ylang-ylang, lily of the valley, and orris. The base includes amber, musk, sandalwood, and vanilla. I have no idea how they managed to put all those ingredients together to come up with such a beautiful perfume, but they did. My mother, Collene Byer Spencer loved it, and my dad, Allen Spencer loved how it smelled on her. Dad would buy Evening in Paris for her on occasions like birthday, Christmas, and anniversaries. It was considered one of the most precious gifts he could give her.
After Mom’s passing on February 22, 2015, as my sisters and I were going through her things, we came across several bottles of the perfume, some were empty, others has a little bit in them, but we each were able to have one of those bottles. It didn’t matter if we wore that perfume or not, we knew that just having the bottle would remind us of our parents, and of the deep love they had for each other. That perfume had such sentimental value, and in fact, I don’t believe that any of us ever took any without permission. Some things are too precious to touch, and even kids understand that. They create a respect of their own, and are given a place of honor in the home and in your heart. That was the case with Evening in Paris perfume. Little girls love to get into their mother’s makeup and perfume, but I really think we understood that Evening in Paris was off limits…and not because we were afraid of the trouble we would get in. It’s like you are in awe of it or something.
To this day, seeing that bottle of precious Evening in Paris perfume, makes me smile, because of the way my parents looked at each other when the package was opened. Mom always looked at Dad, just a little teary eyed, but with a great big smile on her face, and Dad looked like a little boy who had just brought his girlfriend her first rose. There was such a sense of pride that she loved the gift. He just felt good about it. He knew it was a special thing for her, and he hoped it was a surprise. She always acted like it was, whether she suspected it was coming or not. That was just their way. Theirs was a love without end, and they loved blessing each other with the best things they could give them, with the leader always being their love.
With each passing year, I find myself feeling more and more amazed that of all the young marriages there have been over the years, Bob and I managed to find each other and be one of those “made in Heaven” marriages that withstand the test of time. Bob and I were married when I was eighteen, and he was twenty…fairly young by any standards. I know that family and friends never expected it to last, and many have told us how surprised they have been over the years, that it has lasted. I can’t say why it has lasted, except that we just love each other. There is no magic formula…just love each other. Love is the glue in a marriage.
For a long time, Bob and I have taken a trip to Thermopolis on one of the weekends around our anniversary, and we always look forward to that. It is a time in a small town, where there isn’t much to do…except to be together. We walk along the trails, soak in the hot mineral tubs, and enjoy wonderful meals. We talk and just renew our commitment to each other. If there is anything special that we have done for our marriage, this would be it. Doing things as a couple is such a great way to bond. Bob and I love to hike, 
and that makes Winter a less than favorite season, but we love the rest provided it’s not too cold. We find hiking to be a great way to exercise, as well as getting outside and getting some fresh air.
I can’t say if these things are what has kept us close, but we are close, so maybe they are. All I know is that I love Bob more today that when we first married. He is my soulmate, and my one and only. I don’t know what brought us together, other than God, but I’m certainly glad God did bring us together, because my life has been wonderful since the day I met Bob. God knew what I needed, when He sent Bob to me. Today is our 41st wedding annversary. Happy anniversary Honey!! I love you!!
When someone has Alzheimer’s Disease, or any form of Dementia for that matter, their family and friends know that there will be moments of clarity, amid many days in the fog. Those are the precious moments. Such was the case a few years ago, when my first cousin once removed, Carol Schumacher Carlson and some of her kids went to visit my Uncle Bill Spencer, who is Carol’s cousin. I’m not sure how long it had been since Uncle Bill had seen Carol, but it was one of those wonderful days. He looked at her and said, “Well, Carol, how have you been?” It was such a sweet moment for both of them. I’m sure that Carol expected that her cousin would have no idea who she was, but he knew her.
I have had those moments when I have been so pleased that the person I’m talking to, knows me and times when they didn’t. I can tell you that the times they know you are far better…but you don’t get to choose those moments. It’s just not up to you, nor is it up to the Alzheimer’s patient. It just is what it is. You have to treasure the moments of clarity, and deal with the fog, because the patient has no control of it. Believe me, if they could control it, they would. No one wants to lose their memory. Everyone treasures those memories, and when they start to fade, it is sad for them…at least until they just don’t remember them anymore. At some point, it becomes more sad for the visitors than it is for the patient, because they no longer remember that they forgot.
I am so glad that my Uncle Bill and cousin Carol had such a nice visit, and that my Uncle Bill was having a 
great moment of clarity, because the visit meant so much to both of them. Carol suffers from Dementia as well, and while neither probably remembers the visit now, the rest of us could tell that it was a very special moment. Sometimes, without even realizing it, kids can do something so special for their parents that, whether the parents remembers it forever or not, makes no difference, because the other people who witness it or see pictures of it, can see just what an amazing moment it really was. This was one of those amazing moments that will live in my memory files forever. I think Carol’s kids are all pretty amazing. They love Carol, and see to her needs in such wonderful ways. I love each and every one of them.
Have you ever noticed how completely uninhibited babies and toddlers are? If they like each other, they have no problem giving each other a friendly kiss. It doesn’t matter if they are boys or girls or one of each, but my favorite if when it is a boy and a girl, because they obviously have a little case of puppy love…or maybe it’s because babies tend to love most people. Whatever the reason, there is nothing as cute as two babies giving each other hugs and kisses.
Sometimes, I wonder why we can’t all feel the kind of love for other people that is so natural to babies. It doesn’t take very many years before we suddenly feel suspect of other people, or jealous, or just plain don’t like some people. I think that by the time 
we enter kindergarten, we are already feeling a little less like sharing our friends with others, and so enters jealousy. Of course, it’s nobody’s fault, it’s just the way life is. I suppose it would be strange if we were just able to love everyone, although it would also make for a very peaceful Earth too.
It makes me wish that those baby years could just go on forever. Not for me so much, but for my kids and grandkids. I know that wouldn’t work either, because if my kids were babies, they couldn’t have had my grandkids, but I really do miss those baby years for all of them. It is that age of innocence that makes babies so sweet and loving, and as we all know that age of innocence turns to the terrible teens before our very eyes, and almost over night. Once you have experienced the terrible teens with your own kids, you will truly know 
why I prefer the innocence of babies, and baby kisses, over the terrible teens, and all that goes with them.
While I love my children and grandchildren at every age of their lives, there is very little that can compare to the days of innocence and baby kisses. They are not caught up in the day to day stresses and issues of their teenage years, but are rather simply set on bringing happiness and love to all who cross their paths. So the next time you find yourself wishing your babies were grow up so they could do things for themselves, remember that these days are fleeting, and baby kisses quickly disappear…when you are not looking. Focus on those baby days for as long as you possibly can.
I think most people have heard the Bible verse, John 15:13 “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” People may not realize that this is a Bible verse, but they know what they thought was an old saying. Either way, the verse was talking about Jesus dying on the cross to save the world from it’s sin, but I don’t think that was all it was about. It hadn’t really occurred to me before, but when my pastor was preaching a couple of weeks ago, this verse was part of his sermon. Of course, he talked about Jesus sacrifice, but suddenly something jumped out in my mind. This verse was about far more than Jesus sacrifice, or it wouldn’t have talked about the greater love a person can have if they choose to lay down their life for their friend. It was about how we are all supposed to be.
It was at that moment that a thought came to me. There is more than one way to “lay down your life.” Of 
course, the verse meant to die for your friend, and many is the hero who has done that, but it occurred to me that dying is not the only way to lay down your life for someone. In fact, caregivers lay down their life all the time. They set aside their normal life activities, and take the time to take care of another person. I’m not trying to blow my own horn, but rather I want to talk about all of the many caregivers I know of and those I don’t, because their sacrifice is amazing. The patient they care for, would be in a nursing home, were it not for the loving kindness shown to them by a friend or family member who laid down their own life to give that time to another. It is one of the greatest showings of love there is, and it is also very rewarding for the caregiver, although sometimes it is sad too. For just a little bit of time, almost always a relatively short lived little bit of time, at least in the grand scheme of time, you have the chance to be the wind beneath their wings…the one who holds them up and cares for their needs…the one who had the privilege to lay down their own life to care for a loved one.
Yes, greater love hath no man, than that a man lay down his life for his friend…to actually die for his friend, but there is another way that is just as wonderful, and just as loving…to lay down your own needs, desires, activities, time…to care for another human being who desperately needs your help. So here’s to all the Caregivers I know, and to all those that I don’t know. You truly are among the greatest of people on Earth, because you have make a sacrifice that shows the ultimate amount of love you had for your loved one. It makes me proud to be a part of such an elite, amazing group of people. Today is National Family Caregiver Day, and I hope it is an amazing day for all of you.
