He’s Home!

Rejoice with us: Our son is home from Afghanistan! On December 10, Lars arrived home to the eager arms of his beautiful and beloved wife and children in North Carolina. And as Bengt told me excitedly, “When I saw Daddy, I ran and ran and hugged him so hard I knocked him over!”

I feel as if I could do the same thing when I see him. He’s home! He’s Home! He’s home! It’s almost a constant chant at the back of my mind every day.

And tomorrow, Lars and family will be arriving here—at our home in Wisconsin! Woody and I are so excited we are like two little kids. Our whole family will be together for Christmas! Lars, Kelly, Bengt, and Hannah come tomorrow, followed in the next few days by Bjorn, Abby, and Soren from New Hampshire, and then Erika, Richie, and Gabriella from Ireland. We are grateful beyond words.

I woke up with a singing heart. And then I cried. Because there’s something else going on today. Yes, we are making final preparations for the much anticipated arrivals—big food shopping to do, baby equipment to be borrowed, and toys to be gathered from the corners of the house where they’ve been tucked away since our grandchildren’s last visit.

But today, December 19, is also the two-year anniversary of my mom’s Homegoing. Two years ago today, in Ft. Myers, Florida, with my brother and me and her sister and husband at her side, Mom went to be with Jesus. She was 84 years old. I was hugely blessed to have such a wonderful mom all these years. But still, I wasn’t ready to let her go. I knew I had to. I knew she would be better off with Jesus than in her hospice room, lovely as it was. But still, I didn’t want to let her go.

And now, two years later, I miss her every day.

I lay in bed this morning thinking of all the mixed emotions of this day—the anticipation, the joy and gratitude, the sheer happiness; yet the deep down sadness I still feel as well. And suddenly I realized something. That continual mantra at the back of my mind (“He’s home, He’s home, He’s home”) has multiple meanings for me this Christmas.

At this time of year we celebrate the coming of One who came and made his home with us for a little while. But this was not His Real Home. He died and rose again and returned to His Real Home that it might also become our Real Home. So because He’s home, my mom is, too.

Time now to go and get ready. My heart is singing! He’s home! HE’S home! And she’s home, too—along with my dad and Woody’s parents and so many many others we love. Good reason to celebrate, don’t you think?

Merry Christmas!

Dublin Delivery

No, the baby’s not here yet—Erika actually has a couple of months to go. I’m talking about a different kind of delivery: the one Woody and I made last weekend on a quick trip to Dublin. We flew there with four fully-packed suitcases and flew home with two half-empty ones. And in between, did we have fun!

We had several reasons for this trip—as if any mom and dad need a reason to visit their daughter and son-in-law! Most importantly, we wanted to see our daughter pregnant, as she really didn’t look very pregnant when she was here last June. We also wanted to help her set up a little nursery for the baby. And, we had a bunch of shower presents to deliver—from the shower I told you about last June. If any of you have mailed anything internationally recently, you will understand why we wanted to bring as much with us as we could. Of course the suitcases did have to expand even a bit more after I got back from a “pink-binge” at the mall just before leaving last week. A first granddaughter, after all…


As it turned out, we also got to help Erika and Richie move, since our trip came at just the right time when they were “moving house,” as they say in Ireland, from one apartment to another. I’m sure you’re getting the picture by now—it was a very full weekend!

We actually worked pretty hard, and enjoyed every moment of it. We were able to set up a few things for the baby: a crib (a “cot” in Ireland), a changing table, and even my Nana-obsession—a nursing rocker. (Every new mama needs a rocker.) These furniture items all came “flat-packed.” And I can tell you I am still thanking God that Woody is good at putting things together, as that’s definitely not one of the gifts God gave me.


We were able to finish cleaning out one apartment and begin some of the settling process in another. In between, we even managed to squeeze in a coffee here or there and a few dinners out. And something else I love to do: We got to worship at Erika and Richie’s church, a warm and intimate “Saturday@Five” service held in a stately old Irish Presbyterian church. I always look forward to worshiping with them.


But best of all, as you can imagine, was just seeing Erika and Richie and feeling that baby within. She’s pretty active these days. And though her wildest hours seem to be when Erika’s in bed, we were able to feel a few kicks and somersaults-in-process even in the daytime. Well worth a trip to Ireland and back!

Speaking of the trip back…it’s funny how the trip home always seems so much longer than the trip there. It is actually a bit longer on the clock (wind currents or something like that). But of course the distance is really measured in a mother’s heart.

As I said goodbye to Erika, knowing that the next time I see her she will probably be a mama (we’re still working on how to time my trip over to help her when the baby comes), I was reminded how profound Erika’s blog post was on control versus trust. Somehow it takes extra trust for this mama to entrust my “baby” to the far-away Irish healthcare system to properly deliver her baby. But no matter where she is having the baby, there will be plenty that’s out of my control. Plenty that needs to rest in the hands of God.

Being a mama is all about trust, isn’t it? Let’s keep praying for each other, girls!