Quiet and still, before the family is up, I turn the lights on the Christmas tree and sit in its cheery glow. I wrap myself all up in the soft blanket of Love and feel Her enveloping the world in peace and hope.
I sip my lemon ginger tea with honey, and contemplate Christmases past when the sons were youngsters, and my parents were still with us. Yesterday I was feeling sad about the absence of parents and friends who’ve gone on – but in this moment I feel them still with me and I hug them all in my thoughts and smile at their still-nearness.
Love is never lost. All the good of then is still with me here. Karen Molenaar Terrell
Every Christmas is different from the last, and brings its own gifts, and a new past.
Mom and Dad are no longer here, but their sweaters hang from the back of our chairs, and I feel Mom’s smile on me, and Dad’s grin, and sometimes I feel a nostalgic yearning to go back to what’s been.
The sons are all grown up now with homes of their own. But I remember their childhood excitement when they’d wake on Christmas morn – running downstairs to see what Santa brought them during the night and put under the Christmas tree’s lights.
Yesterday I found myself ruminating on a difficult situation I’d found myself in a dozen years ago. I thought I’d moved on and left it all behind me – the difficulties of that time had impelled me to launch myself out into the Great Unknown and given me the opportunity to find a wonderful new place for myself, and I was grateful for that.
But yesterday I found myself thinking about the unfairness of what had happened to me a dozen years ago, and the mean-spiritedness of the people involved. Yesterday I found myself having a hard time letting go of the resentment I discovered I still felt towards the people who’d made my life so challenging all those years ago.
I prayed about this.
And as I was reading this week’s Bible Lesson in the Christian Science Quarterly, this passage jumped out at me: “Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free, and be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage.” (Galatians 5:1.) Whoah. A dozen years ago I escaped from a difficult situation and found myself in a wonderful new place. A dozen years ago I found my freedom. I don’t need to ever be “entangled again” with that “yoke of bondage” – not even through my memories. I’m free! Why would I want to go back – even in my memories – to a time when I wasn’t?
And this passage in the lesson this week made me think about how I see others – am I seeing EVERYone as the beautiful child of God? “…give up imperfect models and illlusive ideals; and so let us have one God, one Mind, and that one perfect, producing His own models of excellence.” Can any of God’s children ever do harm to Her other children? No, of course not! I need to let go of any illusion I might have that any of God’s children can be less than the perfection of Love.
I realize that I need to forgive others their human-ness as they work their way through life, just as I hope others will forgive MY human-ness. NO one is where they were twelve years ago. We’ve all progressed and grown.
And NONE of us needs to be entangled again in old yokes of bondage.
Baker Lake Trail in the North Cascades. Photo by Karen Molenaar Terrell.
my memories of love aren’t confined within my brain aren’t held within the walls of cerebellum, cerebrum, and brainstem, tissue and goo, my memories of love are part of eternity – hid safe in the collective consciousness of Soul -Karen Molenaar Terrell
We created this home together – my love and I – and filled it with warmth and joy and now I sit in our “green room” and gather my memories around me like a soft blanket this is where Dad sat on his 98th birthday and reminisced with his old friends and there is his painting of Rainier and Mom sang and danced over there, and lived and died under this roof that last day, and over there is where the sons played the piano and laughed together and, later, their loves joined us under this roof and joined in the laughter while the pandemic made of our home a safe island and refuge
I feel all the love with me still Dad’s love and Mom’s and the sons’ and their partners’ and the love of the man who helped make this home with me
I feel the wholeness and fulness of my life and am grateful -Karen Molenaar Terrell
My oldest son was born 32 years ago next month. The moment I became a mother, I changed profoundly as a human being. Here was a little life that meant more to me than my own life. Here was someone I would die for – without a second’s thought.
I instantly felt connected to every mother in the universe. I hadn’t really noticed babies before I became a mother myself, but when I became a mother I suddenly discovered that there were babies everywhere! I found my motherly instincts coming out with every baby I encountered – I cooed and played peekaboo and never hesitated to hold a baby other parents handed to me when their hands were full.
Becoming a mother changed who I was as a teacher, too. Now when I looked at my students’ faces I could see them as their mothers saw them. In fact, after I became a mother I found it easier to see EVERYone as their moms might see them. It opened up a whole ‘nother world to me – a world where I better understood my connection to everyone on this planet.
Five months after I birthed my oldest son, I celebrated my first Mother’s Day as a new mom. My own mom sent me $50 for that Mother’s Day. I wanted to buy something special with that money – something that I could keep forever to remember my mom, and to celebrate my own motherhood.
I went to our local mall – at that time our mall was a lively, busy place, filled with big department stores and little kiosks. At one of the kiosks I found a silver ring that depicted two dolphins swimming alongside each other. In my mind I saw a mother dolphin swimming alongside her baby dolphin – protecting and guiding him. That ring seemed perfect for Mother’s Day!
I loved that ring and what it represented for me, but at some point – I can’t remember exactly when now – it got put in a jewelry box with other rings and I lost track of it.
And this month I found it again! I put it on – and discovered another cool thing about this ring: although my fingers are no longer size 4, the ring bends to fit my fingers – it adapts to who I am now.
When I put on my dolphin ring, I remembered my mom’s gift to me that first Mother’s Day. I pictured her sweet face smiling at me. I could hear her voice. I told her that I understand now – I understand things I didn’t understand 32 years ago. I understand her sacrifices. I understand how much I took her love and support for granted. I understand the joy she must have felt when she became a grandma, and I understand now how it feels when your children fly from the nest to make their own lives – the pride when they unfold their wings and take to the air, and the closing of a chapter as they become specks on the horizon in their flight.
When I was a young mother I embraced the sacrifices that a young mother makes. But now I understand the sacrifices a mother with grown children makes – and they are just as real and just as noble. I didn’t appreciate what Mom sacrificed as we grew up and made our own lives. She never asked for more time with us – she knew we were busy – but I remember that Christmas Eve night when I showed up at Mom and Dad’s house unannounced and I remember the look of joy on my mom’s face when she came down the hallway and saw me sitting at her table. I’m so grateful now that I gave her that Christmas Eve night. I wish I had been able to give her more.
My dolphin ring links me between two generations – links me between my mom and my sons. And I’m so grateful for all of the love this ring represents.
Storing away memories like a squirrel stores nuts before the winter cuts in They’re leaving soon so I’m storing fast gathering memories before they pass Walks around the block as we laugh and talk steaming tea in our favorite mugs curry soup and extra long hugs I tuck these memories into the safe places in my heart – stockpiling the memories for when we’re apart
-Karen Molenaar Terrell
“We think of an absent friend as easily as we do of one present.” -Mary Baker Eddy
The sons are no longer toddlers bopping and skipping around the home – they’re grown now and making traditions and lives of their very own.
Mom and Dad have passed on – they’ve moved on to their next chapter – and I guess we’re moving on, too, and finding the new adventures that await us in our “after.”
Whatever the future holds – I’m grateful for the Christmases that have been – for the love and the memories that will be with me forever – for the love of my family and friends.
Last night: Went outside and took a walk around the house and let the twilight wrap itself around me. Listened to the frogsong, and birds chirping to each other. Breathed in the cool evening air, filled with the scents of apple blossom and just-mowed grass and damp earth. And a flood of memories rushed into my thoughts: sitting outside with Dad when I was a little girl, looking at the stars and watching for satellites; Camping out at Mount Rainier – the family sitting around the campfire while Dad played his accordion. Family trips into the Canadian Rockies. And I felt Dad with me, right now, looking at the evening sky with me. Always with me.
(Photo of a Skagit County, Washington, sunset by Karen Molenaar Terrell.)
Taking down the Christmas tree seemed especially hard for me this year. Every ornament brought back memories – sweet and dear – as I wrapped them up (both the ornaments and the memories) and packed them in the Christmas sack.
Ornaments Mom left me after she passed. Ornaments from former students in my class. Ornaments our sons made of pop-sickle sticks and glitter, macaroni and beads.
I felt the loss.
And I know. I know. I know. I know all the things you want to say: I know that Good is never really gone- It’s here to stay It lives on – in our memories. I know Love never ends – and I should be grateful for all the family, all the friends, all the love I’ve known in my life.
But as I take down the tree I’m missing you especially. -Karen Molenaar Terrell
Adventures of the Madcap Christian Scientist 