Author

Lois Flowers

What I Learned This Fall

by Lois Flowers
by Lois Flowers

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, and although the writer in me doesn’t usually don’t agree, I have to say that the following photo pretty much sums up life in the Flowers household right now.

We’ve been remodeling our kitchen this fall. Randy is doing much of the work himself (with targeted assistance from wife and daughters), but we’ve also had workers in and out of the house quite a bit these last few weeks. If you’ve ever done any extensive home improvement projects, you can imagine the smells, sounds and dust.

Oh, the dust. It’s definitely not my favorite, but I’m learning to let it go (which means letting it stay, for now). I’m also trying to lean into the season despite all the new feels that are coming with these particular holidays, which is why it seemed fitting to write “Happy Thanksgiving” on the thick layer of dust on the piano in my living room.

 

Life is sometimes lived among the dust, you know? I figure I might as well embrace it, along with these other learnings from the months just past.

• I don’t love workbooks anymore.

My GriefShare class came with a workbook. I took one home after the first session, but it sat in the same spot on my kitchen counter for the next three weeks. I didn’t open it once, so I brought it back to class and returned it to the facilitator.

I used to be a big fan of workbooks. I’ve even saved several from Bible studies I’ve done over the years. But apparently, they’re not my thing anymore, or at least not right now. I have other ways of processing, other ways of working through the loss of my parents. And I’m OK with that.

• There’s a time to plant, and a time to uproot what is planted.

My flowerbeds were pretty much neglected during the summer, but as the gardening season neared an end, I decided to tackle some work that I have been wanting to do for years.

My procrastination had more to do with not knowing what to plant rather than a lack of time, but I finally made up my mind. I went to my favorite lawn and garden center a few times and eventually came home with five fast-growing juniper bushes that are now planted along my back fence.

Before this could happen though, we had to remove the large and unwieldy rootball of an old lilac bush. Such work is not for the faint of heart, for sure. It took Randy several hours and various types of power and hand tools to wrestle the thing out of the ground.

If I’ve learned anything this last year, it’s to hold my plans—even my gardening plans—very loosely. But hope is still a thing, right? And right now, that’s the word that comes to mind when I think about what next spring will bring out in my flowerbeds.

• Dads are important to their teenage daughters.

I’ve heard read this and heard it from other moms; now I’m seeing how very true it is in my own house. I don’t know when it all started, but these days, Randy is on the receiving end of a whole lot of love from both of his girls. And as a former teenage girl who dearly loved her own dad, it warms my heart like nothing else.

• I’m not sad about the senior year.

Maybe it’s because other weights are pressing on my mind right now, but I’m not feeling overly nostalgic about all the senior things that seem to be coming one right after another. (At least not yet, anyway. Come spring, as graduation approaches, I may be singing a completely different tune.)

I know I’ll miss Lilly next year, but she’s still here now. Beyond that, as I’ve learned from friends with adult children, the parenting doesn’t stop when your children graduate from high school. They might think they know everything for a while, but they don’t stop needing us.

• They need us in different ways, though.

As my girl continues to grow and become more independent, I’m noticing a shift in my role as her mom. Rather than being a primary decision maker in her life, I’m becoming much more of a sounding board. She was a verbal processor already, so the word flow can be a lot at times. But it seems to be another normal and healthy rite of passage, so I think my ears are up for it.

• When it comes to combating the social media time suck, “Out of sight, out of mind” is a good strategy.

I don’t have email or social media apps on my phone. A while back, though—when I noticed I was wasting quite a bit of time aimlessly picking up my iPad to check messages and Instagram—a small change made a big difference. I started to check my social media platforms while I’m eating breakfast and lunch, and then I put the tablet in a drawer. If it’s not lying out on the kitchen island, I’m much less inclined to pick it up throughout the day.

In the interest of full disclosure, I should point out that our ongoing kitchen renovation has gotten me all kinds of distracted from this new practice. (When I first started writing this post, the countertops subcontractor was using some kind of noisy power tool and the whole house smelled strongly of adhesive. Today, my countertops are covered with protective paper and the subfloor is littered with debris from the backsplash work that Randy did over the weekend.(

But the out-of-sight-out-of-mind trick does work, and I’m looking forward to being more disciplined about it once the dust settles (literally) in my house.

That’s what I’ve learned this fall. How about you?

♥ Lois

Life is sometimes lived among the dust. Share on X

P.S. I’m linking up this week with Purposeful Faith, #TellHisStory, Let’s Have Coffee, Emily Freeman, Faith on Fire, Faith ‘n Friends and Grace & Truth.

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The Right Word at the Right Time

by Lois Flowers
by Lois Flowers

It might be a little early to be talking about choosing a new word of the year for 2020. But perhaps it’s not too soon to take a quick look back, to briefly examine how my OneWord for this year helped me in ways I never expected.

Truth be told, I never got around to writing about the difference my word for 2018 made in my life, so maybe I’ll just combine the two. They go together, my words for the last two years, although this is not something I could have predicted or seen in advance.

Last year, my word was bold. This year, humble.

At first glance, they sound a bit antithetical. They don’t typically go hand-in-hand, at least not in my mind.

But I needed them both. In the order they were given to me.

When the word bold first came to me, my first thought was, You have got to be kidding me.

I never would have picked that word out of any line up to describe myself—how I was at the time or how I hoped to be some day.

But God knew.

There’s a line from a favorite Casting Crowns song that talks about “the one thing you didn’t see coming.” Over the last few years, it wasn’t just one thing for my family. It was one thing after another, culminating in a rapid succession of losses that none of us could have ever imagined.

When your parents revise their wills and set you up as the one who will manage all the things if something were to happen to them, you just say, “Sure, I can do that,” and go on your merry way. You don’t really expect that in four or five years, you actually will be needed to step in and do it.

In my case, though, that’s exactly what happened.

As I helped my parents navigate some significant challenges during what turned out to be the last years of their lives, the word bold helped me to be confident. To do what needed to be done, even though I’d never done anything like it before. To trust my gut. To pray for God to direct our steps, one after another.

Especially in the last month of 2018 and throughout the first half of 2019, when my dad’s health and normal way of life completely fell apart, and then both my parents passed away. (Read more here and here.)

We all have our ways of doing things. What looks like boldness for me might not look like boldness for someone else.

I’ll be the first to admit I didn’t always handle every task right or well. There are things I would do differently if I could hit rewind and try again.

That’s not an option, of course. I’m learning that part of the grieving process includes working through those regrets, realizing I did the best I could at the time, and (in some cases) determining to do things differently if I’m ever placed in a similar situation again.

Which brings me to humble, my word for 2019.

I recognize the irony here. It seems weird to try to explain how I practiced humility over the last year, if I could even think of a specific example.

I can talk generally, though. I can tell you that, as I tried to juggle all my parents’ affairs, the word humble quietly guided my heart, my mind, my reactions and my decisions.

I have six siblings—five older and one younger. They all love my parents and wanted the best for them. They were—and still are, I think—very supportive of my efforts.

But, as anyone who has been through a difficult family season can attest, it’s easy to get overwhelmed by opinions and even to misunderstand motivations, especially when you’re stressed and exhausted and grieving.

I didn’t always practice humility well, or at all. But I did try to think the best of others and their intentions.

I tried to let humility inform the way I shared information, solicited feedback, made suggestions and responded to input.

Most importantly, at least for me, I consciously resisted the urge to defend myself or justify my actions. The truth is, my family didn’t need (or ask for) a 10-point outline of how I came to every decision. They simply needed me to take care of our parents’ affairs.

Bolstered by their prayers (not to mention their actual physical presence at the most serendipitous times), I tried to do just that.

I’m a word girl, so maybe it shouldn’t surprise me how God consistently uses the words He gives me each year to prepare my heart and pave the way for what He has planned for me in the coming months.

And maybe it won’t surprise you to know that I’ve already chosen my word for next year. As usual, I don’t really know what it means, this new OneWord that I’m looking forward to sharing with you in a few weeks.

But if history repeats itself, as it often does, it will be just what I need to guide my thoughts and actions in 2020.

♥ Lois

We all have our ways of doing things. What looks like boldness for me might not look like boldness for someone else. Share on X

P.S. I’m linking up this week with Purposeful Faith, #TellHisStory, Let’s Have Coffee, Faith on Fire, Faith ‘n Friends and Grace & Truth.

Photo by Vincent van Zalinge on Unsplash
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Nobody Belongs on a Pedestal

by Lois Flowers
by Lois Flowers

Several years ago, I was in my daughter’s room one night before bedtime. I don’t remember exactly what we were talking about, but I was trying to convince her not to elevate celebrities or think that their lives are better than hers.

“Just like everyone else,” I told her, “they put their pants on one leg at a time.”

My girl interrupted me then, to let me know that she actually puts her pants on both legs at a time.

Of course you do, I thought immediately. (Further investigation revealed that Daughter No. 2 also does not put her pants on one leg at a time. What are the odds?)

My children sometimes mess up my delivery of life lessons. But the point I was trying to make is still valid.

Certain positions or offices are worthy of respect—judge, pastor, policeman, soldier, teacher, president. But when it comes to specific individuals, I don’t care how many followers people have, how much money they make, how famous they are, how wide their influence or how powerful their position.

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When Joy and Sadness Share the Same Space

by Lois Flowers
by Lois Flowers

These days, there’s a whole lot swirling around in my head, my heart and even in my home, where the kitchen is under construction and everything seems to be out of place and covered in dust.

The good news is that the mess, while inconvenient and distracting, has not derailed me. That, my friends, is a faint sign of growth. Not huge growth, like I’m hoping to see on the fast-growing juniper bushes I planted in my backyard a few weeks ago. But growth nonetheless, when you consider how anxious and irritable I used to get a decade or so ago when one little thing was out of place.

If nothing else, life has a way of making us more flexible, doesn’t it?

Last Monday night, I was the only participant at my GriefShare group. The sweet leader and I watched the video together and then sat and talked for a long time, just the two of us.

I pulled out my phone and showed her pictures of my parents, back when they were still looking happy and healthy. Then I shared pictures of my dad near the end of his life, including some where we were sitting close together on the loveseat in his room at the nursing home.

He was leaning up against me and I was holding his hand.

The quality of the picture isn’t great—it’s dark and we’re both sorta schlumpy looking. But the moments that Molly captured on my iPhone were sacred.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but I do now.

I started writing this on Oct. 29, exactly five months after my dad died. I’ll be posting it on Nov. 5, which is my 49th birthday.

Honestly, I don’t know what that day will be like. I do know that it’s Election Day, and I’ll be taking Lilly to vote for the first time.

Her birthday is one day before mine, and she’s all excited about turning 18 and being able to do all the things 18-year-olds get to do. As she should be.

So we have a daughter turning 18, me turning 49 (a number which, honestly, isn’t that big of a deal to me), me having my first birthday without my parents (which might be a big deal but I won’t know until it happens) and the space in my house where I spend most of my time under construction.

On top of all that, we’ve now officially reached the season when, one year ago, my dad’s health really started declining. I don’t even have to consult my prayer journal or calendar to remember all the sad events, one after another. They’re seared in my memory like they just happened yesterday.

I don’t think I’m suffering from PTSD or anything. It’s more of a quiet realization that never quite leaves. The other day, for example, I got an email from the U.S. Postal Service telling me that the mail-forwarding service I started on Nov. 30, 2018, would end on the same date this year.

I didn’t sign up for a year initially. It was just for one month, because my dad was supposed to have gone to rehab, gotten better and then moved to assisted living, where he could resume getting his own mail.

That was the plan, anyway. But it never happened, and I kept adding more months of mail forwarding, knowing that someday, I’d have to make it permanent.

Back then, I didn’t realize what permanent was going to look like. Now, of course, I have a much better idea.

At least when it comes to my parents. They’re with Jesus; they’re good.

As for me, I’m good too. I’m also sad, sometimes. But I’m learning, as those who have loved and lost before me, that joy and sadness can coexist. That grief won’t break me; that as I move through it, it softens.

Many of the memories ache now, but as my heart is healing, they’re growing warmer.

My dad turned 86 the day before he died. When I wrote a blog post about his birthday, I ended with Psalm 118:24—a verse in his favorite essay, and one that I see in my egg carton every morning when I’m making breakfast.

“This is the day which the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.”

Out of all the verses in the Bible, that’s the one that comes to mind now, as I write about my own birthday.

The past is done; the future is unknown. But the God of all our days has given us this one to enjoy, so let’s get on with it.

♥ Lois

The God of all our days has given us this one to enjoy, so let’s get on with it. Share on X

P.S. Thanks to all of you who commented about Randy’s lovely signs last week (and were thereby entered in a drawing to win one). And the winner is … Valerie Riese from Wisconsin, who blogs at victorythroughsurrender.com. I’ll be in touch, Valerie!

Finally, I’m linking up this week with Purposeful Faith, #TellHisStory, Let’s Have Coffee, Faith on Fire, Faith ‘n Friends and Grace & Truth.

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Fall Faves (Plus a Giveaway)

by Lois Flowers
by Lois Flowers

Fall has finally arrived here in Kansas, and I couldn’t be happier about that.

I’ve been making it a habit to notice little things that bring me joy these days. I’m not keeping an actual list or anything—that feels a bit too structured right now. But to celebrate fall foliage and better sleeping weather and not wearing sandals anymore, I thought I’d share a few of my current favorites with you this week.

• This Old House

Back before Trading Spaces and Extreme Home Makeover, long before Chip and Joanna took the country by storm and HGTV made gray everyone’s go-to decorating color—years before all that—Tom Silva and his crew of decidedly non-flashy subcontractors were renovating New England houses on This Old House.

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These are My Big-girl Pants

by Lois Flowers
by Lois Flowers

I cleaned out my closet the other day. My efforts didn’t reach the level of separating the items I don’t love into piles to throw away, donate or put away for a few months to see if I miss them. I simply went through and culled out stuff I don’t like anymore.

In the process, I came face-to-face with my fall and winter wardrobe. These are the clothes I was wearing last year when my hours were consumed with managing my parents’ affairs. When I was making those near-daily visits to the nursing home. When my dad was hospitalized and I was driving to see him multiple times a day.

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