A beginning and an end

Last week we said goodbye to Jason's Grandpa Hinrichs. We gathered down state on the farm with Jason's family and filled four days together telling stories of this great man. Everyone who knew him loved him, especially his grandchildren. An obituary read that he had spent his life as a farmer, and that he loved visiting with friends. But the stories people told over those days, and the pictures that we poured over- are what really tell the story of a life.

Ernest loved to laugh, and to make you laugh.
He always had a smile on his face. Including the very last time we visited him in the hospital.
Ernest always asked about you first.
He was generous.
He loved his family more than anything.
He had many friends.
He loved his church and his community.
He was extremely kind.
He loved his birthday.
He loved ice cream.
Ernest was a good man.

We will miss him terribly.

That same week, Jason's cousin and his wife welcomed their baby boy, Calvin Hinrichs Clem. Arriving eight weeks early, he was eager to greet the world, but he's doing very well. He's breathing on his own, and has even drank from a bottle already. He was 2 lbs 14 oz when he was born, but he's 3lbs 8 oz today. Practically a linebacker. Little Calvin is so special. He's so very tiny and so sweet. And he's like a little ray of happiness and sunshine for Jason's family. We love him so much. I can't wait to watch him grow. Marin tells everyone that baby Calvin is just a little tiny baby, but that someday he's going to run and play with her. I can't wait for that day. Marin also tells everyone that she has a new brother. We have to keep reminding her that Calvin's her cousin. I think she's just about got it. She always remembers baby Calvin in her prayers.

Watching the beginning and the end of life in the same week is a reminder of the circle of life. To make the best of every day. To live life to the fullest. To surround yourself with those that make you happy. To do well. To be your best. Life comes and goes. Tell people that you love them. Squeeze each other tightly. Laugh. Live it up. That's the way Ernest lived. A life well lived.

"I Like Your Baby, Honey!"

The Friday before Thanksgiving, (November 20th), my Grandma Meyer passed away. At 96, she lived a very good and very full life.

On the coattails of Thanksgiving, I was able to reflect perhaps more than I would have under normal circumstances, about how thankful I was for her life, and my own. I am so thankful for every day we had with my Grandma. For the sweet way she would ask me, "What do you know, Johanna?" for the way she pointed out the birds from her chair, or commented on my outfit; especially when it was pink, her favorite color by far. But maybe what I am most thankful for, is that she was able to meet Marin.

My Grandma had Alzheimer's, and although it wasn't the worst case known to man, it was pretty advanced in the last few years. She didn't always remember that she had met Marin before, or what her name was, or even necessarily always connect that Marin was her great granddaughter; but I know she loved her all the same. I was asked to give my Grandma a eulogy at her funeral last week. And in the eulogy I said how much my Grandma lit up around Marin. She loved to hold her and watch her play. And every time she saw her, she would lean in close to me, touch my arm sweetly and say, "I like your baby, honey." I hope that I never forget the way she said that.

Marin's first Thanksgiving was a happy one. We went to my Grandma and Grandpa Martin's home for Thanksgiving. My Grandma and Grandpa Martin are 89 and 91 and continue to insist on preparing Thanksgiving dinner for 12 people. And it is all fresh, beautiful food prepared from scratch and served at the loveliest of tables. I am very thankful to be able to return to that table year after year. Everyone should be so lucky to have grandparents like my Grandma and Grandpa Martin. They are the absolute best!

And I am thankful for the people who shared our tables this weekend. My parents, who are always wonderful to Jason and I, have been so especially this year, as we have been renovating our house. My brother and his wife, my in-laws, and sister in law, Lindsay, have all helped us at every turn that was humanly possible. My Aunt and cousins were all in for my Grandma Meyer's funeral, and although that wasn't under the best of circumstances to see one another; it was so fun to be together- along with my Uncle, my parents and Jake and Katy- celebrating Grandma's life and recounting all the times she made us laugh.

I am thankful for my friends. You are one in a million. I am thankful for the many, many laughs we share.

I am thankful for our home, and for as perfect a move as possible. I am thankful for every bit of sweat that has been poured into our home. For every worker (friend or hired) who has passed through the door and has taken pride in the work that they have completed. I am especially thankful to Jason for literally bleeding love into our home. For working every single free second he has on building a beautiful home for our family.

And of course, I am thankful for my little angel love, Marin. Who has brought so much joy to everyone in the past few weeks. Babies should be a requirement at every funeral. It should be part of the package sold to you by the funeral directors. Because there is just no match for their innocent smiles, and their unwavering comfort, and their boundless love.

I feel very blessed. For the life I live and the people I share it with past and present. And I am thankful for the phrases like, "I like your baby, honey!" that make me smile again and again.

Marin's "pediatrician in the sky"....

This is a picture of my mom and her brother, my Uncle Frank. Today is the one year anniversary of his death. A death that came much too soon. My Uncle Frank was a wonderfully kind and loving man. He loved people, parties and his garden. He had the very best laugh of anyone I ever knew, and he remembered every thing about everyone he ever met. But perhaps what he will most be remembered for, is his love of children. My Uncle was a very well known, very trusted pediatrician. And any new parent that has ever taken their tiny baby in for their 4 day old visit, knows how valuable that is.

One of my favorite memories of my Uncle was when I was about 5 years old. It was Christmas Eve at my Grandma Meyer's house. I had all of the fascination and adoration of Santa as any young child my age. After dinner, my Uncle Frank stood by the window and said, "Oh my goodness! Johanna! I just saw Santa and his sleigh!" I ran to the window, he pulled a chair over for me to climb, and we peered out the window at the northern star which I was convinced was Santa's sleigh. A few years later, when there were rumors that Santa didn't exist, I thought to myself, "But I saw him!"

I found out that I was pregnant with Marin two days after my Uncle Frank died. Last year, I knelt down beside my Uncle at his wake and whispered to him what Jason and I hadn't yet told any of our other family members. "I'm pregnant Uncle Frank. Please watch over this baby." I couldn't imagine how I was going to make it through this new and scary time in my life without being able to ask him his advice. There was one particular time in my pregnancy when we had a scare, and I thought about my Uncle. I remembered that he was going to keep us safe. And indeed he did.

Shortly after Marin was born, my Aunt referred to him as Marin's "pediatrician in the sky". I just loved that. This morning I told Marin about her Great Uncle Frank. I told her how much he would have loved meeting her. He would have scooped her right up and just loved every single inch of her. Every night before we go to bed I say the Guardian Angel Prayer to Marin. Perhaps he is listening as I do.

As much as I would have loved for my Uncle to have met Marin; for him to put his stethoscope up to her little chest and reassure me that everything is as it should be, it is an honor to have Marin's pediatrician in the sky watching over us. After all, how many kids can say they have an angel in their family? Marin can.