Reunion

The past ignited by a spark of recognition
 Is dimmed by the realization of change
Shared memories fan the flames of reconnection
And from the embers glow the warmth of family remains

Raczon Family Reunion – October, 4^th, 2014

The Great Matt or My Dad Walked On Water - Well Almost

Some memories seem to stay with you beyond the years and clutter of everyday

life. They remain vivid while others fade or disappear completely. Included in mine are
memories of my father that I seem to be able to relive in my mind as though they happened yesterday.
    

My dad came from a large family. He was not the oldest or the youngest but I am pretty sure he

was the one that commanded the most attention. He described himself to his own family as
The Great Matt and told us all that he would live to be 100.  Whenever he saw an opportunity to prove his self-proclaimed greatness and shake things up a little he would grab it.

One Sunday afternoon, at our home by the river, a weekend picnic was in full swing. We heard the sound of Dad's car pull up after a quick trip to the grocery store for Mom.  Everyone was standing
or sitting near the waterfront watching the boats and talking when suddenly he came running
toward us at full speed.  He let out a whoop and ran straight for the seawall.  No one could
believe he was going to jump in with all his clothes on.  He never hesitated or slowed down
and it looked like he was planning to run right across to the other side.  Suddenly his feet left the
ground and it was as if for a few seconds he was suspended in midair.  There was silence as  we
all watched him drop straight down and waited for the inevitable splash. Instead of a splash came the sound of a full grown man landing, no crashing, into a row boat.  The water level was about
4 feet below the top of the wall so no one could see the boat that somehow my dad knew was there.  We stood stunned at the sound but before we could reach the seawall he popped his head over the top grinning from ear to ear.
    I will never forget how, in just a few seconds, he took us all on a wild and joyful ride fromdisbelief to laughter. That was the Great Matt.  We lost him at age 52 and history would tell you that a great part of his life was very difficult, but he had survived and thrived. His legacy to us was a joyful heart that defied adversity and dared others to join him.
I only hope that I honor him and my Heavenly Father by seizing every opportunity to
to continue that legacy.  Defying the odds and sharing the truth that some may not see, to  move them from disbelief to joy.

Mothers Day or A Place Like No Other

Todays about Mothers
Those here and those gone
To honor, remember and thank them for all

Beginnings don’t matter
The time, place or source
To love as a mother she made the choice

No matter how many

She holds in her heart
There’s a place never shared that was yours from the start

It’s all about you there

You are treasured and known
No matter the distance it is always your home

It’s filled with her prayers

Her hopes and her dreams
For your needs to be met and your goal’s to be reached

How can I be sure

That all this is true
I’m not just a daughter, I’m a mom too

Mothers Day or A Place Like No Other

Todays about Mothers

            Those here and those gone
            To honor, remember and thank them for all
          
            Beginnings don’t matter
            The time, place or source
              To love as a mother she made the choice
 

              No matter how many

            She holds in her heart
              There’s a place never shared that was yours from the start

               It’s all about you there

               You are treasured and known
               No matter the distance it is always your home

               It’s filled with her prayers

               Her hopes and her dreams
               For your needs to be met and your goal’s to be reached

               How can I be sure

               That all this is true
                I’m not just a daughter, I’m a mom too

A Right Of Passage or That Kid's Got An Arm

                Third in a line of girls, I was forced to give up my position as the baby of the family when my brother was born.  You could tell my Dad was anxiously waiting to teach him about all things male, but growing up with three older sisters wasn’t setting the stage for his rough and tumble future. We all loved holding him and feeding him and he made a great addition to our pretend families when we played house.

 I think all that nurturing was beginning to worry Dad because one day he announced that it was about time for him to be completely done with bottle feeding.  He was a toddler by that time and was only getting an occasional bottle but as a milestone it suddenly became very important.  My brother did not take to the idea and what could have been a war of wills was turned into a unique Right of passage designed by my Dad.  We lived on the banks of the Fox River and we were all called to assemble down by the water’s edge one Sunday afternoon.  My brother came, bottle in hand with my mom and dad.  Dad announced that my brother was now a big boy and big boys did not drink from bottles so he was going to throw his last bottle into the river.  My Dad held his hand to steady him and after a little encouragement my brother threw the bottle into the water.  Cheers all around and that was that as we all marched back up the bank to Sunday dinner.

When I think about all the times in my life that I had to let go of the past before I could take the next step toward a new beginning I picture my Dad steadying my brother and making him feel strong and capable.  I know my Heavenly Father is always there for me, steadying me and loving me through the letting go if I walk hand in hand with Him.

Steps

You came to me already named

No bottles to warm or diapers to change

No lullabies or stories shared

Or teaching you to say your prayers

I missed the precious moments that

With my own child love began

Your hopes and dreams already sown

By Memories I’d never know

I couldn’t ease the pain you felt

When in the night you’d cry for help

And though I’d run to you myself

I knew you longed for someone else

Another love you’d always have

Who knew your fears, your cries, your laugh

Even though you were apart

She would always have your heart

Wanting to love you

Wanting to help you

Wanting to find a way to tell you

That I was there no matter what

And that I never would give up

Trying to find an empty place

Within your lives and fill that space

To be whoever you needed then

Hoping your love at last to win

               I didn’t understand your ways

               I had to learn them as the days

               Of your lives were passing by

               No catching up although I tried

New memories across the years

Shared joys and sorrows that brought us near

Created a way for me to start

To climb the steps into your hearts

Girl Meets World

Thirty years ago today my daughter made her very 1^st decision in life.  She wanted out!  She had provided me with subtle hints all day but once she decided the whole process was wrapped up in a couple of hours.  It was a quick and efficient arrival just after midnight on a snowy Colorado night.

The doctors underestimated her determination. They sent her father home telling him that she would not arrive until the next day, only to have to call him back an hour later.  I will never forget his booming voice getting closer and louder as he ran through the quiet halls of the hospital trying to reach the delivery room on time.  She was already robed in pink and crowned with a knit cap by the time he reached us.  She held court for the 1^st time as her father’s little princess and ruled his heart from that moment on.

She is beautiful, unique, creative and intelligent.  She loves openly and without prejudice, demands justice and leads naturally when called upon.  You don’t have to believe me, I am her mother after all, but even if I wasn’t I would want to be her friend.

Diving In

I don’t remember how old I was or why my father suddenly decided to teach us all to dive off of the pier that day.  I do remember being terrified.  I loved the water and wasn’t afraid to swim but something about jumping off the pier head first into the deep water scared me to death.  I was never even allowed to go on the pier by myself and now, there I was out on the very end being encouraged to jump.

My sisters went first.  Older and more experienced swimmers they showed very little fear and did well on their first try. My dad reminded me to keep my head down and just fall forward.  He assured me that he would be right there and there was nothing to worry about.  I stared at the water listening to my sisters and my dad telling me that I could do it.  Putting my hands over my head I closed my eyes and fell forward forgetting to put my head down.

 I remember wondering when I hit the water if it was supposed to hurt. After the stinging sensation came the cold and dark.  It felt like I would never stop going down but suddenly as if a rubber band had reached the end of its stretch I was propelled upward without ever touching the bottom.  I burst out of the water and into my father’s arms. He held me tight against his chest with one arm and used the other to swim toward the ladder on the pier.  He didn’t say a word as he helped me up and wrapped me in a towel.  The truth was that I had just performed the most magnificent belly flop he had ever seen.   He didn’t ask me to try again that day I think we both knew that I was not ready. 

Of all the memories of my father that is the one that is the most vivid to me.  Remembering how he was right there when I needed him and how he held me, understanding my pain and not laughing at or scolding me for my failure.  My father is no longer with us but now I have a Heavenly Father.  Even when I fail and it hurts and I feel as though I will never come out of the darkness.  He is there to lift me up, comfort me and set my feet on solid ground.  If your world is dark and cold and you are still feeling the pain of failure or the bottom has fallen out of your life, reach for Him and He will lift you up and into His loving arms.

Auntie Helen's Dresser Drawers

 The older couple that lived next door were like grandparents to us.  They were retired and their children were grown and out of the house.  Uncle Lou spent his days in his garden always keeping an eye on us as we played outside. He fixed our bikes and showed us how to tell a weed from a flower.  Auntie Helen stayed indoors most of the time so we didn’t see her as often.  When she did come outside I always held my breath waiting for her to ask us in for a visit.

  A visit meant sitting with her on the sun porch eating homemade cookies from an old metal tin and Kool-Aid out of paper cups.  It also meant being able to open our own special drawers in the large sideboard in the dining room that l called a dresser.  Inside our drawers we each had a special coloring book, a box of crayons, a paint book, watercolors and a set of paper dolls. No hand me downs or leftovers but chosen especially for us according to our age and favorite characters or themes. We used our best coloring skills and treated everything carefully putting it away neatly for the next visit when we were done.  She hung our artwork on her refrigerator just as she had done with her own children.

 At home, out of necessity, we learned to share; at times a room, most of our toys and even a bed. During Auntie Helen’s visit we were unique individuals. My parents treated us as individuals amongst the chaos of a large family, but it was those quiet times away from home that helped me be me. I know that my grandchildren may have to share the guest room and take turns on the computer but they will each have a drawer with their own brand new things so they always know they are special and unique.

Night Watch

            Summer days on the Fox River where I grew up were filled with swimming, boating, and barbeques. Three of my Uncles also had homes in our small subdivision creating a steady flow of relatives and visitors.

            The frantic activity of the day was eventually subdued by darkness, as boats and visitors disappeared and the river became quiet. Fishing poles lined the banks in makeshift holders and bobbers rolled softly over ripples of water that just hours before had been the large waves of the boat wakes. The low voices of the brothers playing poker on Uncle Paul’s screen porch drifted out into the night air.  If it wasn’t too cold, the aunts’ voices could be heard from our own screen porch as they chatted or played pinochle. The kids were the watchers.  We sat on the grass a safe distance from the bank and stared at the black water waiting for that little bit of movement that would bring the night to life. 

Watching the bobbers we had learned to tell the difference between the tug of a choppy wave and the real thing. On first sight we raced to see who could get to the screen porch first to let the pole’s owner know they had a bite. The cards were left in mid hand as they ran down to the bank to watch the catch.  Congratulations given, the poles were checked and re-baited and card games resumed as we all took our places again. In time the night would grow damp as a low hanging fog rolled out over the water, the fish would stop biting and we would be summoned for bed. Even now, on warm summer nights when I close my eyes, I can almost hear the soft lapping of the water and the drifting voices of the night watch.