It's been two months since I posted anything here. 2011 me doesn't even recognize 2024 me! When this blog was in its infancy, I used to get up pretty much every morning raring to sit down at my laptop and write.
In March of 2011, when I first decided to dip my toes into the unfamiliar waters of the blogosphere, my life was about to change drastically: my youngest son was getting ready to graduate from high school that June and head off to college after the summer; and my oldest son was three months away from becoming a first-time father to twin girls, making me a first-time Grammy. I was not technically an empty-nester yet, but I was getting close. And suddenly, I had more free time than I'd ever had before--so for several years, I blogged almost daily. But then as, one by one, new daughters were added to our family, and traveling to visit our ever-expanding brood took up so much of our energy, my blog output started to decrease quite a bit. I loved writing about my family and my life, but I became too busy living it to blog about it as often as I used to do.
In 2017, my husband and I moved away from our "forever home" in New Hampshire, where we had raised our boys, to Virginia, where three of them had settled with their growing families. So much has changed in the intervening years. Today, I have five married sons and 22 grandchildren. Two of our boys live too far away, one in Wisconsin and one in Tennessee; but we feel pretty blessed to have three of them living less than an hour's drive from us. Life is gloriously busy down here. We live in a smaller house, with a smaller yard, but I have grown to love our new VA home every bit as much as the NH one we tearfully left behind seven years ago.
As difficult as it was at the time, that move was good for me. I'd already started having to learn to accept change, to practice detachment, because by then all five of our boys were grown and gone and living their adult lives. Even our baby was an Army officer stationed in Germany when we made our big move south. For a person who gets very attached to the things--and the people--she loves, leaving that well-loved house, with all its happy memories, was one of the toughest things I've ever done. But ultimately, it made my life better! The blessings we have reaped by living close to so many of our kids and grandkids are countless. Our 2017 move was one of the best decisions we ever made.
Just yesterday, I was reading a January 2024 blog post by Elizabeth Foss, and as usual, her writing spoke to me. Loudly. She included a quote by Corrie ten Boom (a WWII concentration camp survivor, who'd risked her own life to hide Jews), and when I read it, I knew that God meant for me to see it. "Hold loosely to the things of this life so that if God requires them of you, it will be easy to let them go." And when ten Boom said, "things," she wasn't only talking about material things; she elaborated, "Even your dear family. Why? Because the Father may wish to take one of them back to himself, and when he does, it will hurt you if he must pry your fingers loose."
Whoah. Did I ever need to read those words, to be reminded of the fleeting nature of this life on earth and the need to let go of things, and even of people when the time comes. It's so easy to say, "Of course! Yes! I'm a devout Catholic and I know that this life is short and filled with suffering, and it's the next one, the eternal one with God in Heaven, that matters." And yet, things here matter to the human heart. And people; oh, how they matter! It seems that mothers' hearts break on a daily basis. Just having a child grow up, leave home, and start his adult life somewhere far from you can do it--even though that's the goal: giving your children wings and then watching them fly away.
I loved it when all of our boys were little, living under our roof. I loved it when they were gathered around our table for every meal. I think I'm in need of a short trip down Memory Lane, so bear with me while I share some pictures of those good old days. (And also, if you're a young mom, remind yourself how lucky you are to have the awesome digital photography of the 21st century always at your fingertips, instead of the grainy, poorly lighted snapshots moms my age have of our kids--ones we had to wait a couple of weeks to see, not even knowing how they'd turned out!)
Those boys: they are my life! Hang on a minute...I need a tissue.
Okay, I'm back.
Listen, the last thing I want to do is sound all maudlin and "woe is me." I'm just feeling nostalgic is all. And the years seem to be going by too quickly for me these days, the changes coming at me rapid-fire. At 65, I know that the road of life behind me is much longer than the one ahead, and it makes me think about all the things I love in this world.
But I would be lying if I said that feeding a passel of little boys was always a complete joy. We had two in particular who were mighty picky eaters. When they used to ask, "What's for dinner?", I would put them off with, "I don't know..." or "I don't want to talk about it right now..." If we ever got through a healthy home-cooked dinner with clean plates and no complaining, I used to feel like I was on a high. They all loved my baking, so dessert was usually successful; but the main dish was hit-or-miss with some of them. I wasn't the greatest cook, to be honest (it's hard to get excited to cook when you're not sure people will eat what you make). I could whip up basic "comfort foods," like beef stew, lasagna, shepherd's pie. But I wasn't very adventurous with my cooking.
That's one nice part about being an old lady like me: you miss your kids being gathered around your table (picky eaters notwithstanding); but if you made the right choice in a husband, and he's your favorite person to hang out with, dinner for two can really be a joy. And it's fun to try new delicious dishes together.
This past week, my husband and I had two meals in a row that I thought were so yummy, simple but elegant--and I would never have made them to serve our boys when they were little. We ate these meals on trays in the family room while we watched Matt Walsh's show together, pushing pause every now and then to chat. I thought my plate looked so appetizing both nights that I snapped pictures. And now I'm going to share them--lucky you!
On Monday, we had baked potatoes and roasted prosciutto-wrapped asparagus (with parmesan cheese and bits of French fried onions on top). It was so good!
On Tuesday, we had filet mignon, cooked by my husband on the grill and topped with sautéed mushrooms, and green salads (his was a bit more elaborate than mine). I also had some plain yogurt with fruit and granola, in lieu of dessert. Because it's Lent. (I know some of you probably think I cheated because that sounds like a dessert; but in my book, if it doesn't include chocolate or caramel or icing, and it isn't a cookie or a brownie or a cake, it is most definitely not a dessert.)
There is so much to let go of as you get older. But there is also much to look forward to. Every night that my husband and I are at home eating our dinner together, it feels like a date. That's not too bad a way to live, is it? Sure, sometimes we miss those bygone years when we always had our boys with us, when we saw them every single day; but they are all thriving at the moment, praise God. And we are so, SO happy to have each other.
Full disclosure: I took those Corrie ten Boom quotes to heart, and I want to live my life holding onto things loosely; but when it comes to my husband, my grip is probably a bit too tight. I'll be working on that, but I can't promise I'll get good at it! In the meantime, I hope there are lots of dinner dates in our future.
