~the epitome of love~
64 years ago today, my mom was a busy woman. Child #6, that was me, had decided to make the 26th day of October her official birthday. I was born after about 8 hours of "let's get this over with!" labor in the old hospital that was called "Bethel Deaconess" back in Harvey County, Kansas.
Old "Doc Schmidt", the physician who had delivered 4 out of 5 previous siblings, came whistling down the hallway after spending the night out drinking and dancing with his wife. The hospital staff had tried in vain to reach him in order to relay the urgent message that Lois Scott was fixing to have a baby. It was to no avail. I will always remember how my mom described what the Catholic nun, Sister Marietta, told her when she expressed fear that no one could locate her doctor.
They brought me home to the family farm in the sand hills of Harvey County, Kansas to begin the process of raising me up. Two years later they decided that our family of 8 people needed yet one more child and that little sister would be the last one to arrive. When I was a 3rd grader, they moved us at Christmas time to Haven where I would remain for the rest of my growing up years. I graduated from high school and then college, got married, became a mother to 3 children, and a teacher to the children of others.
I've done a whole lot in these 64 years of life, with most of it being wonderful.
At age 64 I am a whole lot closer to the end of my life than I was, let's say 30 years ago. I recognize that and I accept it. I'd love for it to go on as many years as the good Lord above has willed for it to be. My once secret hope to live to be 100 is now my outspoken quest. My grandmother lived to be nearly 106 and her daughter, Aunt Beck, made it to 103. Perhaps even I shall too!
I've done plenty of reflecting about life lately and the subject always arises about how I'm planning to spend what time remains for me. That seems to happen with great frequency, especially when every single day the mailbox outside of our house and the inbox of my computer are filled with advertisements about supplemental health care, funeral and burial plans, ways to make your home more handicapped accessible, and the best dentures available to mankind. I've been praying about knowing when the time would come to leave the classroom and enter retirement from teaching for good. Having tried retirement once in 2010 and only lasting 3 months, I always wanted to be positive this time that it was the right thing to do. About two weeks ago, Mike and I had a visit about this very thing. My last year in the classroom will be the 2020-2021 school year. The prospect of saying that after this year there will only be one more is a rather somber one to consider. I've invested everything I am into the profession of education and having to give it all up will require a great deal of me. It will not be easy and I know it. Those who say it is will have a hard time convincing me otherwise. I truly wish I could be a teacher forever because I love it so very much, but I sadly and realistically know that I cannot.
John and Lois Scott's little baby girl, born on this day in 1955, grew up to be the person I am today. Every experience that I encountered and every choice I made, bad or good, shaped me into who I am at age 64. I've been most grateful for every single person who extended their hand to me in friendship and who never judged me for any mistake or fault I had from the past. Through the rough and lean times that I have endured (and don't we all?), it was those friends and family members who gave me their support and picked up the slack on my behalf.
On this, the 23,376th day of my life, I do so give thanks to a man and woman who loved one another so much that they made the decision to have me. They were a farming family and poor by many of today's standards. Having another mouth to feed was probably not the wisest or easiest of things for them to do, but they did it anyways.
To me, their selfless act of human kindness is the epitome of love.
Old "Doc Schmidt", the physician who had delivered 4 out of 5 previous siblings, came whistling down the hallway after spending the night out drinking and dancing with his wife. The hospital staff had tried in vain to reach him in order to relay the urgent message that Lois Scott was fixing to have a baby. It was to no avail. I will always remember how my mom described what the Catholic nun, Sister Marietta, told her when she expressed fear that no one could locate her doctor.
"You know Lois, we don't really need him anyways. You and I could do this without him. We've done this before!"Shortly before my 10:32 a.m. birth, the door swung open and Doc Schmidt came waltzing through with a smile on his face and asked my mom how things were going. Mom never told me what she said to him but suffice it to say, I don't think I would have been able to include her words in this blog post anyways.
They brought me home to the family farm in the sand hills of Harvey County, Kansas to begin the process of raising me up. Two years later they decided that our family of 8 people needed yet one more child and that little sister would be the last one to arrive. When I was a 3rd grader, they moved us at Christmas time to Haven where I would remain for the rest of my growing up years. I graduated from high school and then college, got married, became a mother to 3 children, and a teacher to the children of others.
I've done a whole lot in these 64 years of life, with most of it being wonderful.
At age 64 I am a whole lot closer to the end of my life than I was, let's say 30 years ago. I recognize that and I accept it. I'd love for it to go on as many years as the good Lord above has willed for it to be. My once secret hope to live to be 100 is now my outspoken quest. My grandmother lived to be nearly 106 and her daughter, Aunt Beck, made it to 103. Perhaps even I shall too!
I've done plenty of reflecting about life lately and the subject always arises about how I'm planning to spend what time remains for me. That seems to happen with great frequency, especially when every single day the mailbox outside of our house and the inbox of my computer are filled with advertisements about supplemental health care, funeral and burial plans, ways to make your home more handicapped accessible, and the best dentures available to mankind. I've been praying about knowing when the time would come to leave the classroom and enter retirement from teaching for good. Having tried retirement once in 2010 and only lasting 3 months, I always wanted to be positive this time that it was the right thing to do. About two weeks ago, Mike and I had a visit about this very thing. My last year in the classroom will be the 2020-2021 school year. The prospect of saying that after this year there will only be one more is a rather somber one to consider. I've invested everything I am into the profession of education and having to give it all up will require a great deal of me. It will not be easy and I know it. Those who say it is will have a hard time convincing me otherwise. I truly wish I could be a teacher forever because I love it so very much, but I sadly and realistically know that I cannot.
John and Lois Scott's little baby girl, born on this day in 1955, grew up to be the person I am today. Every experience that I encountered and every choice I made, bad or good, shaped me into who I am at age 64. I've been most grateful for every single person who extended their hand to me in friendship and who never judged me for any mistake or fault I had from the past. Through the rough and lean times that I have endured (and don't we all?), it was those friends and family members who gave me their support and picked up the slack on my behalf.
On this, the 23,376th day of my life, I do so give thanks to a man and woman who loved one another so much that they made the decision to have me. They were a farming family and poor by many of today's standards. Having another mouth to feed was probably not the wisest or easiest of things for them to do, but they did it anyways.
To me, their selfless act of human kindness is the epitome of love.
Thank you Mom and Dad!
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