Title:Writing Home (Hearth Stone Books, Royal Oak, Michigan, 2005) Author:Cindy La Ferle‘s essays and columns have appeared in The Christian Science Monitor, Reader’s Digest, Country Gardens, Mary Engelbreit’s Home Companion, Writer’s Digest, The Oakland Press, The Royal Oak Daily Tribune and many other publications. She lives with her family in Royal Oak, Michigan.
What a wonderful collection of essays! Cindy La Ferle is a great observer of human nature, and she is a brilliant writer with a calm and assuring voice. Many of her essays brought me to tears, especially the ones she wrote about her son. My children are in between the stages of childhood and teenage-hood. I look into their faces that keep changing yet staying true to who they are — and I try to savor every moment with them. Her words remind me that this motherhood ride is an exciting one with the milestones speeding by in the blink of an eye.
“The sacred is in the ordinary. It is found in one’s daily life — in friends, family, and neighbors; in one’s own backyard.” Thanks, Cindy, for reminding me.
The kids were swinging outside the other day. It reminded me of how quickly time flies. Back when they first got these swings, the girls got the seats for their birthday. That’s when the secret of what was being built next to the playhouse was revealed. That was five years ago. Mom used to sit (because she couldn’t stand for long anymore) and push the girls on the swings. It was a lovely time. It would have been nice if she could have been out there the other day to marvel in how big her grandchildren are getting.
I was 19 when he died … 28 years ago today. I’ve known my father-in-law for 22 years now … longer than I knew my own father. Well, that’s not quite right. I still know my dad. But I only had him here in person for 19 years. Ah, well. This is what happens with the passage of time. I’m older now than my father was when he died. It makes me think of the lyrics to a James Taylor song.
As much as I teased my dad about his choice of music, I’d like to think that he’d like to listen to James Taylor with me. And maybe he’d tell me that the secret of life is enjoying the passage of time.
Time goes by. Dad gets farther away. But maybe I understand him just a little bit more with every passing day.
Eight years ago tomorrow, I was on bed rest. I was 29 weeks’ pregnant with twins. Trond was working from home, because I had been having complications. Cousin Marita had taken Andy out for a walk.
I wasn’t feeling great. Things got worse. I told Trond to take me to the hospital. My heart sank when I saw Dr. Jaeger there. He had delivered Andy. I thought it was a (not great) sign that he was on call this day. Things were not good. He told me I’d need an emergency C-section. From the minute we’d arrived at the hospital, we had tried to reach Marita on the telephone. I was panicked about ALL my babies, and it wasn’t until we heard that Marita and Andy were safe at home that I could go into the OR.
I was out. I don’t remember a thing. But they told me Katie cried when she was delivered. (They didn’t think either of the girls was big enough to make a sound.)
They were in the NICU for six and seven weeks. They’ve been going strong ever since.