Category Archives: Grandparenting

Name Calling

Posted on by

By becoming parents, we sign on for a million and one unique tasks, some exhilarating, others exhausting. One job that’s an early must for every parent is to name the new baby. Although demanding decisions await, this first duty is a pleasure.

Some parents eagerly name their children after others they love, in a gesture of honor and respect. The hope is that the admired one, the one having a character so strong he/she is worthy of a namesake, will develop an influential relationship with the child.

Often baby names are chosen to link one family member with another as a tribute to the older person. This would include a “junior” or a “I, II, or III.”

Other new moms and dads are all about the meanings of names. This was particularly true in biblical days when parents believed children would live up (or down) to their names. The scriptural Jabez, for example, became famous because he sidestepped this principle. His name meant “borne in pain.” In the only Bible reference to this man, he asked God to keep him from causing pain to others.

I remember our Linnea asking us, as a little girl, what her name meant. Sadly, we didn’t have a good answer. She was named Linnea because we had several other Linneas in the family, and we loved this Swedish name. When we looked it up after the fact, we learned it meant “lime tree,” not particularly noteworthy. (We did redeem ourselves somewhat by discovering a tiny pink flower named “Linnea”.)

The only way the name game can be spoiled is if mommy and daddy can’t agree. When this happens, experts say, “Let the father name the baby, because it’ll bond them together. The mother has been bonding for nine months.”

Nate and I dipped into each of the above methods of naming our seven. While growing up, our kids would say we made an effort to choose the weirdest names we could find. Nate and I chose them all from a Swedish calendar because of our shared Scandinavian heritage and knew their names would grow on them, which they did.

Yesterday I received the glorious call from Hans and Katy announcing the double birth of their not-so-little twins in Manchester, England. There is no greater use of a phone than to communicate the news of new life! When they called a second time to reveal the names, it was nearly as great a thrill. By knowing the names, I began to know the grandbabies. A first step was to write “Evelyn” and “Thomas” on my prayer list, scratching out the anonymous “Baby Girl” and “Baby Boy” written there to this date.

When Hans told me Evelyn’s name, he said, “…after the one and only Grandma J,” my mom. Well put. Evelyn’s middle name, Sarah, is after two remarkable women who share it: Katy’s mum and then Katy herself, as a middle name. The first half of little Evelyn’s name means “giver of life,” and the second half means “beautiful.” As the first daughter in a family of three children, she will give a special kind of life to this Nyman household. Her second name describes exactly how: as a “princess”!

Thomas means, appropriately, “twin”, and he is named after two first-rate role models: my brother Tom and Hans himself, as a middle name. The twin’s middle name, Nathan, means “gift of God” and honors Hans’ father, who passed away five months ago. God took… and he gave. All four of these names are rich with significance and will prompt meaningful conversations with the twins in future years.

Nicholas, their not-much- older brother at 15 months, bears a name linked to two uncles, Katy’s brother Nicholas and Hans’ brother Klaus, whose name is derived from the Swedish spelling of Niklaus. And his middle name, Carl, is shared with my dad, the patriarch of our side of the family. By the way, Nicholas means “mighty in battle” and Carl tells why: because he is “the strong one.” With the twins entering little Nick’s world, he’ll need both might and strength!

My prayer for all three children is that they’ll hear God’s tender call. He’s known their names since before time began and loves them with an everlasting love.

“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are Mine!” (Isaiah 43:1)

Changing Expectations

Posted on by

An important part of my transition to widow-status is to consciously set a different standard. For example, every time I think, “Nate will be home soon,” immediately on its heels is a second thought, “He isn’t coming.” My widow friends tell me these “false starts” will happen less and less often, but for now, each thought-couplet (he’s coming; he’s not coming) is a fresh disappointment.

Riding this emotional see-saw drains energy, but I can’t wish it away. The passing of time helps, they say, because all major change takes some getting used to. I buy that, because I’m doing better this week than last, which was better than the week before that. Nate always used to say, “The only constant in life is change.” I know that wasn’t original with him, but it’s his voice I hear in my ears, reminding me of this truth. Life has changed dramatically for both of us. At first I categorized his change as positive (heaven) and mine as negative (widowhood), but I’m trying to pull away from that now, opting instead to call our changes “different”.

With a windy snowstorm today, our new winter season is shouting about change. Christmas without Nate is also telling us how radically our holidays will change. But just like the current seasonal changes, I’ve come to a new life-season personally. Nate has begun his eternal life season. I’ve begun the season of widowhood.

What could possibly be positive about that? After all, I’ll be without a partner at weddings, graduations, funerals, christenings, any formal gathering where Nate and I used to go together. I’ll sleep alone, drive alone, shop alone, do everything we used to do together, alone. The first thing to do is to set aside false expectations about my new season. When I see a couple leaning against each other in church, instead of thinking “if only,” I need to tell myself, “You’re done with that season now.” It isn’t the end of the world.

There’s a Scripture passage that says, “When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child. But when I became a man [or woman], I put away childish things.” (1 Corinthians 13:11) The season of childhood ends for all of us. Many of the things we’ve looked at as positives from the perspective of a child disappear when we become adults, but that doesn’t mean new good things aren’t coming.

So far, I’ve only been faced with the negatives of this new season of widowhood.  Today I’m working on changing that. Will there eventually be positives? I believe there will be, for one reason: God doesn’t pull the rug out from under us without planning to catch us when we fall. But even better than that, I believe he has a brand new positive plan for me, a new place to stand “on a new rug,” so to speak. Although it won’t include Nate, I have confidence it will be a good plan anyway. I don’t yet know what it is, but in due time the Lord will show me.

Midge plus kids

In the mean time, he’s given me a little peek at what my new season will hold. It will involve grandbabies, five so far (2 born, 3 almost born). I know it will include travel to see these little people in Florida and England. I know I’ll need to swing a paint brush to freshen up our needy cottage. I know I’ll learn to think like a widow, which will expand my understanding of all the widows who have preceded me into this season. I’m in their club now, and being “included” will be a good thing.

I want to fulfill whatever purpose God has in mind for me from here on, and do the work he’ll assign me to do. As my missionary friend is fond of saying, “God’s work done in God’s way will find God’s supply.” I know I’m going to make it, and I know it’s going to be good.

“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven… and a time to heal…” (Ecclesiastes 3:1,3a)

Sweet, not bitter

Posted on by

Today was an old-fashioned work day, the kind most families have on fall Saturdays: taking down the screens, washing windows, putting up the storms, cleaning house, doing laundry and running errands. Several of the guys also installed a hand-held shower nozzle for Nate, since climbing in and out of the tub is no longer possible, and we did a thorough vacuuming (Mary did), since Jack the dog was pronounced flea-ridden. Despite the “normal” nature of a chore-oriented day, for us it was super sweet, because all 13 of us (plus 3 in utero) were together on task. Nate was in the middle of all of it, keeping up with the ceaseless activity from the comfort of his lazy-boy.

He seemed better today than he’s been in a week. The doctor believes his radiation treatments finally began benefiting him last Wednesday. Not that this is a reprieve from what’s still coming, but it’s a mini-interlude of better energy and, Nate thinks, better breathing. It’s very possible the radiation has shrunk the tumor in his lung enough to increase air flow, which has made him more comfortable, less panicky.

The best part of today was when we gathered around Nate, the star of our family show, for a group photo. As we set up the picture with our two sweet grandbabies in the line-up, I thought of the three new babies who won’t be with us until 2010, and ached to think Nate may not be in that picture. Nevertheless, we grinned and giggled for the cameras during this bittersweet moment. What good would it do to dwell on the “bitter”? Thinking about the “sweet” was what we all wanted to do.

During the afternoon as we worked, the cranberry chicken in our oven smelled better and better, promising a delicious evening meal. It had been prepared ahead of time and brought to our door by others, which made it twice as tasty.

Each evening we have a “small group” meeting during dinner. Since sitting in hard-backed chairs is too difficult for Nate’s aching back, we gather around his chair in the living room with plates of food on our laps. During the last three weeks, many glasses of milk and cups of coffee have gone overboard on the forty year old carpeting, not to mention blobs of lasagna and wayward peas. We pick up the chunks and ignore the rest, focusing instead on each other.

Now that all of us are together, our “small group” has become large, with a meandering circle of easy chairs, dining room chairs, folding chairs, stools and one very important lazy-boy. Before we eat, Nate enjoys looking around the group and choosing someone to say a prayer over the meal, once in a while choosing himself. The Spirit leads those prayers, and the words hold power.

Come to think of it, there is much more powerful praying going on around our house than ever before. Recently, while up during the night helping Nate to the bathroom, I glanced into the next room and saw Louisa bent over her Bible with her journal underneath it, pen in hand, studying, thinking, praying. It was 3:15 a.m. To see this was a sweet blessing.

When my phone ding-dongs with a new text, sometimes it’s the kids sending what they just prayed for us. Other times it’s a Scripture verse that lifts and encourages. Bibles are open throughout the house as we search for this or that promise, and our Scripture rocks sit on the window sill above the kitchen sink. God is near, and it is sweet.

“Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things.” (Philippians 4:8)