An Expectant Grandmother

jane: Betsey, I can hardly believe that in two months I'm going to be a grandmother! I'm so over the moon, I'm beside myself. Everyone tells me there's nothing like it: that I won't be able to tear myself away from that new little one, that the love I'll feel will be fierce, that the experience will be pure bliss. And that my job will be to spoil, spoil, spoil. Yesss!

This imminent adventure has inspired me to reflect on my grandparents. I had wonderful, rich relationships with them, unlike Rich, who never had that opportunity. Rich's Italian grandma lived far away and didn't speak English well. He didn't visit his maternal grandpa. And his paternal grandparents passed away while he was a little guy. Although my grandfathers died when I was a young adult, my Nana lived until my daughters, Sarah and Emily, were five and three. And my Grandma Johnson passed when they were ten and seven. So both my grandmothers got to enjoy being great-grandmas. What a gift!

Surrounded by Love: Newborn Sarah and I are flanked by my mom and two grandmothers.

How about you, Betsey? Were you close to your grandparents?

betsey: Yes. I never knew my paternal grandparents, who both passed away when I was quite young. But I adored my mom’s parents. They lived near us until I was five, then moved to New York for my grandpa’s work. They had a magic house on a golf course. It always smelled like bread – my primitive back-of-brain can still conjure up the fragrance – but my grandma was decidedly not the one baking. She always had “The Help.” There was candy in dishes and a hammock they would swing me in and once, memorably, my “funny uncle” gave me a can to open and a cloth snake popped out! Oh . . . and they had one of the first color TVs, since my grandfather was a sales manager for Zenith.

Three Generations: There's my Nana on the right!

jane: My grandparents lived within an hour's distance of my home, so almost every other weekend we trekked to visit one set or the other. In summer, I used to “vacation” at Nana's house (I think when my mom needed a break). I remember Nana always painted her toenails vivid red; she'd wiggle them at me and say in her sweet southern drawl, “Don't I have nice feet?” She did! Nana treated me like a princess. I slept in her big bed, we made apple pies together (and I got to play with the leftover dough), we fed the birds and squirrels, we strolled to the local Ben Franklin store to buy me toys. Plus Nana sewed me the nicest Barbie dresses. My Barbie was one of the best dressed on my block!

Beautiful Manhattan: home of Betsey's maternal grandparents.

betsey: Those overnights are really, really special. I think I’ve already shared with you stories of our trips to Manhattan to visit my grandparents. They lived in a co-op building on the Upper East Side on 87^th not far from the park. We actually went and looked at it several years ago when we were staying up that way. I’ll never forget my grandma, who was a true grande dame, taking me out to lunch, to FAO Schwarz, the great toy store, even to her neighborhood grocery store. My sister and I slept in a foldout couch in what I now think was a tiny maid’s room. In those pre-AC days the window was open, it was hot, and the sounds of the “city that never sleeps” came drifting up to the fifth floor.

jane: I've always mourned the fact our parents live out of state. So although we visited as often as we could when the girls were growing up (and they would, too), geographically they simply weren't able to be the same consistent presence in my children's lives as I had in mine. Sarah and Emily's grandmas and grandpas, unfortunately, weren't there for every piano recital, ice skating event, Sunday-school program, or school band concert. That always saddened me.

betsey: That bears out what has been a growing conviction of mine: family should live near each other. As you know, Jane, Fritz’s mom lived an hour from us and so, actually, did my parents early on. So Amanda got lots of grandparent time when she was quite young. Then later after Mom moved to Cape Cod we had a built-in vacation place. But I love it that Amanda and Stuart are just minutes away.

jane: While I'm terribly excited about becoming Nana, I've experienced a strange melancholy, too. I tried to explain this to Rich; he gave me a look, as though to say, What's wrong with you? I told him, Grandparents are the best thing going when grandchildren are young. But then they become teens – and, well, you can become that elderly person they have to spend time with before they can go on with their friends, their activities. Although I never felt that way about mine, I know people who acted as though they did. Becoming a grandparent makes one more aware of the passing of time, the passing of the baton, the passing of generations. Do you think I'm nuts?

betsey: No, I totally can see that. But I think you need to remember the legacy you’re handing down to that grandbaby when she’s young. And to tell you the truth, I would have given anything to have had my grandma when I was a teen. She passed away when I was ten and honestly, I suspect she might have helped me through a rough adolescence.

Ready to Pop: Sarah with the  baby dresses I'm already buying!

jane: Thanks, Betsey, I needed that! I'm pumped about discovering the ways God will use me to encourage my daughter and son-in-law in the roller-coaster ride of parenting. And the opportunities he'll provide for me to flesh out his unconditional, irrational, outrageous love in my grandchild's life. Bring it on! 

From Dreaming to Doing

betsey: Jane, I love IKEA. Three floors of everything from reasonable sofas to kitchen storage to beds to posters. I love wandering their decorated spaces, the home offices, the bedrooms, the kitchens. You can really pick up ideas. I’m now leaning toward a rich reddish-brown for our cabinets and a creamy countertop with a flecky pattern. And an ogee. Which is a sort of rounded lip on a counter. And brushed-nickel, straight pulls . . .

jane: And I love the word "ogee." It sounds so Norwegian, like the word "uff da." We have ogee edges on our kitchen and bathroom countertops; they're much safer.

betsey: I’m really proud that we actually got some things we needed and did some things we’ve been talking about. And talking about. And . . .

Maybe it’s my personality type, which is very high Intuitive on the Myers-Briggs, but I love thinking and dreaming and concocting. That’s all very well, but eventually one has to, well, execute. Git ‘r done.

jane: Thanks, Larry the Cable Guy.

betsey: But really, I mean put up or shut up. Is this ever an issue with you, the tendency to think and not do?

jane: Yes! I tend to think Big Picture about home improvements and prattle on about everything I want to do, which really overwhelms Rich. No, make that freaks him out, because he starts seeing $$$ fly out the window – and understandably so. But that's the way I process daydreams: I try things on, so to speak, by talking them out. Eventually I arrive at what I really hope we can do first. And I reassure Rich I'm not pushing for Do Everything At Once. Think this would be a good topic for Rich and Fritz to write on. You know, the fritz:rich blog responds!

betsey: We’ve been thinking and talking forever about getting new cushions for our breakfast-room chairs, for example. Some were too expensive; some we just procrastinated till they were no longer available. But we got a set at IKEA (for much less than we would have paid elsewhere). Now I feel virtuous, like I’m on top of things.

jane: Good for you! What do they look like? Show me next time I'm over . . .

betsey: Dark blue, in a nice, slightly rough cotton – so, one thing checked off. And you know, I don’t want to be that person who talks a good game, who’s always “going to” do something. Exercise. Bible reading. For some people I’m acquainted with, looking for a job.

What, in your opinion, does it take to move from thinking to doing?

jane: Hmm, that's a tough one. Let me think about that for a moment. Joking!

When it comes to home improvements, I've found the more choices in which I immerse myself (there have got to be a million paint swatches out there), the more I become immobilized by indecision, overwhelmed by second-guessing. I do much better with a smaller pool of choices. I need a limit and a deadline.

But if you're asking me about how to move from thinking about exercise or Bible reading to actually doing those things, I'm stymied. I've been struggling off and on for years to stop thinking about dieting to dieting. If I knew the secret, I'd bottle it, market it, then retire with Rich to a dream house in Colorado. I do, however, believe it requires deciding this -- whatever it may be -- is something you want or need so badly, you'll make and take the time to “just do it.” As they say when talking about training dogs, the activity has to be a “high value” object.

betsey: Makes sense. Like when I look back at whatever accomplishments I’ve had, they’re in areas I really care about, like work and relationships. Boy, I wish I really loved to exercise. I know! You can come over and help me clean and decorate sometime. That way I can “fool” myself into exercising, since I highly value you and my house. And I’ll do the same for you.

jane: Now that's a strategy! Turning something you dislike doing into something you enjoy so you'll actually do it. I like that (although I can't say I find cleaning fun; decorating, yes!).

betsey: I’d be interested in what some of our blog friends out there have to say on this: how do we get from dreaming to doing?

The King's Speech

jane: I've been thinking about the movie Rich and I viewed two weeks ago, The King's Speech, starring Colin Firth (oh, Mr. Darcy!). First of all, we both loved the flick – and for Rich to love a movie (and even recommend it to others), that says a lot. I think the film merits its Oscar buzz; Colin Firth as England's Prince Albert-turned-King George VI is outstanding. And I loved Helena Bonham Carter's turn as Elizabeth, the Queen Mother, mother of Queen Elizabeth II. I'll be interested to see how well it does during Sunday's Golden Globes award ceremony.

The movie revolves around Prince Albert, son of ailing King George V. Albert, known by intimates as "Bertie," suffered from a stutter that rendered him incapable of utilizing the power of radio broadcasts (“the wireless”) to communicate with his subjects. Then his father dies and his brother, King Edward VIII, abdicates to marry American divorcee Wallis Simpson, and the stutterer is thrust onto the throne of a nation poised for war against Hitler.

As we discussed the film, Rich observed that anyone who's struggled with any type of physical or emotional impediment, no matter how slight, could relate to Prince Albert's fear and frustration when having to "step up." I remembered how as a child I was very self-conscious about being pigeon-toed. Not to mention terribly shy. Even today, at the thought of public speaking, I tremble. How about you, Betsey?

betsey: Well, first, I really want to see the film. I remember Colin Firth in Bridget Jones’s Diary, where he played the quiet-but-decent guy, as opposed to charming cad Hugh Grant (of course). He’s supposed to be amazing in this. And for me, I love public speaking – BUT I do struggle with introversion. Not that that’s a handicap, exactly, but in some settings it is. I used to be pretty socially awkward. I’m not anymore, but every now and then I can still feel like that person standing behind the potted palm.


jane: One of this movie's most inspiring aspects is the unconventional relationship betweeen a king and a commoner. That led to King George's ability finally to control his stammer. It was washed-up Australian actor Lionel Logue, portrayed by Geoffrey Rush, who helped Albert regain both his voice and his confidence. How powerfully this demonstrates the way friendship can help us overcome challenges or fears.


betsey: Absolutely. Everything from walking with someone through an addiction struggle to a simple “you’re really good at . . .” But it’s an art, to affirm while at the same time encouraging someone to overcome something.

jane: Lionel Logue had no credentials; his “speech therapy” techniques were birthed from aiding impaired, shell-shocked soldiers who couldn't talk about what they'd seen in war. What Lionel provided, in many ways, was that all-important open heart and listening ear.

betsey: From what I know of the story, one of the most remarkable elements of their friendship was that Logue dared to befriend the prince – to cross a forbidden line. I think there’s a lesson right there. It’s easy for me to go the extra mile for someone like, well, you – but how often do I befriend, let alone truly invest in, someone outside my comfortable circles?

jane: That deserves some serious thought. Plus, the king had to forsake his trappings of royalty and formality (defense mechanisms) to overcome stuttering, while Lionel had to remain doggedly determined, steadfast in the face of regal resistance. There's a lesson there, too, about

comfort zones and persistence and being present, even when it isn't easy.

Most people's problems aren't as obvious as Bertie's awkward stammer. But they're still there, some impediment of pain or hurt or fear waiting for a Lionel Logue to invest the time and attention needed for healing. So when I take the time to listen and then speak from a caring heart guided by God's truth and wisdom, I'm using The King's Speech, too!

A New Year, in Which Betsey and Jane Learn to Dance More

betsey: Jane, it seems amazing to me that it’s 2011. There’s something so hopeful and promising about this time. You clear out the Christmas clutter, you clean out a drawer, you put up the new bird calendar or whatever you got. And you start reflecting on what you might want the year to look like.

I know this has been a hard season for you. But do you find yourself being reflective around this time of year?

jane: My holiday season has been an unusually difficult one, Betsey, since we lost my sister-in-law to cancer the day after Christmas. That week, 

in the ICU waiting room of a downtown Detroit hospital, I started some serious “soul work” for the coming year.

Losing a loved one – even when you know she's in heaven – makes you reassess your mortality and the way you live your life.

But as far as the typical New Year's resolutions go, well, I gave that up a long time ago. I found I set myself up for certain failure, especially when it involved promises about diet, weight loss, and reading the Bible through in a year.

betsey: I hear that! But, as I said, there’s something about January. . . . On New Year’s Day Fritz and I sat down with pen and yellow pad and wrote down what we’re calling “commitments” – starting with the spiritual and scriptural foundations for those commitments. It felt good to start with the “main thing.” But tell me more about your “soul work.”

jane: My sister-in-law was known by so many as a woman who loved God and served others. You know how when you attend a memorial service and hear what others say about the deceased, it makes you wonder what others will say about you when you pass? (At least, I do.) So this year

I've asked God to help me do the things I do, write, say, think (even all my cooking, cleaning, and schlepping around) more fully for him.

Of course that's always been my desire, but now, I hunger more fully for that . . . to be more concerned about pleasing God instead of consumed by an all-too-frequent concern about pleasing others.

betsey: I like the idea of building on things that one is already doing, as opposed to endless resolutions that are impossible to keep. Like I want to grow my own writing projects – tend, nurture, become more intentional about this thing I love and know and am called to. And, I must admit, there are some of the usual suspects. One big one for us is, get more sleep!

jane: Amen, sister! I think our sleep deprivation is self-induced, due to our lack of discipline regarding the two behemoths that cozy up to us every night, snoring and squirming and twitching . . .

Rich told me he wants our lives to be as exciting as the first time we met and as passionate as though it was the last time we were together. That brought tears to my eyes, and it still does. I long for that, too, especially after being reminded all too recently of life's brevity. Too often I focus on the minors, turning them into majors, when I should be sloughing them off. Instead, 

I want to become better at making my moments count, to take every opportunity to "dance" rather than sit on the sidelines.

That's something to work toward.

betsey: As you know, Fritz and I admire you and Rich for your ability to “dance” (even for Wheaton grads!). You DO a lot together. That’s definitely one commitment we’re making this year and, perhaps, a fitting New Year’s greeting to anyone keeping up with this blog: This year, get off the sidelines and dance!