My Missionary Monday

Memories, laughs, a full tummy, and a renewed appreciation for missionaries everywhere are just a few things I left with after visiting the Roughts and McGinnises a couple Mondays ago. After a rather adventurous trip to their house, I was greeted by the ever-beautiful Gretchen, warm Ryan, and was soon-after awestruck at the size of their girls! The last time I remember spending some quality time with these beauties was five years ago when I was with them for a week here on a mission trip. These young ladies before me were talking to me like the teenagers they were becoming, and I felt old! Minutes later, that dynamic duo, Jon and Joni, arrived with their whole kitten-kaboodle!  After hugging the oh-so-grown-up, Katie, and next-oldest Megan, I smiled at Lindy and JD, who simply blinked at me. These poor children had no idea who I was, but I made them hug me anyway :)

As we sat drinking coffee (of course) I updated them on all things Sarah, and then later I was privileged to get a peek into what “Missionary Talk” looks and sounds like. Planning meals, accommodations and other necessities for the pending arrival of their TACTICA team, asking questions about the correct way to conjugate a Spanish verb, and hearing about how they've been adjusting to the culture in general, left me wide eyed and speechless as I soaked it all in.

After I sat at the “grown-up” table for dinner we headed outside in the drizzle for a good ol' fashioned bonfire. It was there that I was able to hear exactly how all their kids have adjusted – especially Jon and Joni's, and the difficult decisions their families have to make regarding education for their kiddos. It suddenly occurred to me that the rather difficult time I had adjusting to this culture here for the first month or so was absolutely minuscule compared to what these family have been and are currently going through. I don't think I ever personalized their transition of packing up house and home and throwing themselves into a completely different culture...

As I hugged them all good-bye, and Ryan and Gretchen kindly drove me home with their exhausted girls, I was beyond thankful for these incredibly close-knit families willing to sacrifice everything familiar for the sake of spreading the gospel of our Savior. Wow.

So thank you – Ryan & Gretchen, Jon & Joni, and family (and missionaries everywhere) ...for everything!

Much Love,

 from a blessed, enlightened, and thankful little Darling <3

I'll leave you with some snapshots with the cutest kittens around!

 

 

 

A Tribute to My Grandfather

Grandpa Stewart

My favorite memories of my grandpa are recent, after he hovered on death's door. If he told you about his near-death experience this summer, he would have said that I saved his life. I promise I did nothing more than schedule him a doctors appointment. However, after his heart was literally zapped back into rhythm, he approached life differently. Suddenly it didn't matter how loud we were laughing in a restaurant, how much dirt we tracked into the cabin, if we ate cookies in the living room, or if we took over his garage with motorcycles. What mattered was his family, and the precious moments he had left with them. At any random moment he could be found attempting to hand his grand kids a twenty or take us out for a bite. He actually tried to pay me after I took him to the emergency room, ever afraid of being a burden.

There are things about my grandpa that I will never forget. According to him, his grand kids were going to rule the world someday, just like their mother was already doing. Growing up, us Brittan kids got called the wrong name by grandpa so many times it's a wonder we don't suffer from identity crisis. On the other hand, what better compliment than to be mistaken for “Kathy” every time grandpa visited? If you ever met his dog, Sandy, she was his baby. She had a chair in the house that no one dared sit in, and a special place on his bed and in his heart. She temporarily replaced the void of my grandma who is ten years passed, the void that will now be forever satisfied.

Grandpa enjoyed hitting a tennis racket well into his eighties and had a sweet tooth or two in that golden smile of his. Probably one of his more well-known attributes was his ability to tell awkward jokes at the most random of times. Often we would laugh not at the joke itself, but at the absurd moment of its delivery. Family dinners will never quite be the same.

However, there is one family meal that rises above the rest. Grandpa insisted on taking his family out to dinner, his treat. He chose Pizza Hut, one of his favorites, and somehow all six Brittans found a free night a few months ago to spend together with grandpa. At dinner, I noticed he didn't say much, but rather reveled in his surroundings. He was engulfed in his legacy. They were laughing, eating, and enjoying one another all around him. He was proud, and he was thankful.

After that, for the next couple of months he could be seen muttering to himself, that was when he was talking to his Jesus. He started praying ceaselessly, and thanking his father for every little thing. At the end, in the hospital and later in Hospice, not a complaint could be heard. He could be found flirting with the nurses while he was flirting death itself.

But the truth remains that I believe my grandpa was never happier than when he was dying. It took a life-threatening experience for him to declare everything in life a blessing. He started giving radically, realizing the fleeting value of material things this side of glory. His glass went from half empty to perpetually half full. As I sit down, far from home, to write this, I can't help but realize what a valuable lesson he has left behind.

My grandpa wouldn't want a fuss over him, he never did. He would want you to live, and live to the fullest. Abandon the dirt covered floor and crowded garage. Forget the loud laughter in public, and eat cookies in the living room. Live for the things that will last, the things you can reap the befits of when your short life here is over. Above all, consider it all joy...and it never hurts to add a tasteful joke or two.

Read at my grandfather's funeral 9.21.12



XXOO, from a little darling far from home

Daddy's Girl

Meet a 6’ 4” big teddy bear of a guy.  His name is Jerry.  I call him Daddy. 
He is an Electrical Engineer, Junior High Youth Group Leader, pilot by hobby, natural cook, husband to Kathy, and father of four.

It’s pretty obvious that since I’m only daughter, I am Daddy’s Little Girl =)

The first time I went fishing, my dad put me in charge of the worms.  Knowing I loved squishing my fingers in the dirt and talking to the little critters - he knew my squirmy friends would keep me occupied for a long time.  The problem came when he needed more bait.  He grabbed the little container from me and started searching through the moist dirt, only to find that there was not a single night crawler in sight. 
“Sarah, what did you do with all the worms?”  
It was then that he saw the last one sinking down into the dark liquid abyss.
My huge baby blues locked with his as I shrugged my shoulders and said, “They were so dirty, so I gave them a bath.”  …what can you do but laugh?

When I was 9, my dad took me to see Disney On Ice.  I remember I was home sick with the flu the day before,, but he still let me go.  Not only that - but Daddy let me have a McDonald’s shake afterwards…as long as we didn’t tell mom.  I haven’t had the flu since.  

When I was 19, my daddy took me on what I consider the best date.  We simply ate at Texas Roadhouse (he calls it Texas Roadkill…not on purpose) and talked about my life, my friends, my plans, and my dreams.  Afterwards we went to Barnes & Noble and where he bought me coffee.  It was a delightful summer night and as we rode home with the top down in his convertible as the stars winked at us. 

When my dad was in college he was as skinny as a rail.  He ate a steady stream of baked beans and refused to go home for Saturday breakfast - the reason you ask?  My grandparents refused to provide him with real maple syrup (his epitome of goodness).  Just like magic, when my grandma bought him some of Canada’s finest, home he came.  I came home a couple months ago for a visit from college, myself, and saw four Starbucks frapachinos sitting on our freezer outside.  I asked my mom if they were for me - she replied that when she had asked my dad what they were, he smiled and said “maple syrup.”

After my trip to Florida this passed week, I needed to be home for a bridal shower on Saturday morning.  Friday night was the Whammy Awards at my church - a family affair I didn’t want to miss.  So, what did Daddy do?  He took off work and flew to the little Springfield airport to pick me up and get me home in time for my family to take home two Whammys! (I’ll explain in my next blog).  As I flew co-pilot, I snapped shots of the world below. 

We caught up on things at home and my amazing trip.  It was unusually windy, which made it considerably harder to land the plane.  As we neared the runway, I continued picture taking - hardly realizing that my dad was holding his breath.  As our tires safely screeched on the pavement, he let out a huge sigh and said, “I can breath again.” 

It’s funny that to me, with my dad’s strong, capable hands - my life is never in danger.  In that moment, the fact that our plane could suddenly get swept up in a gust of wind and crash, was farthest from my mind.  I was flying with Daddy…and I was as safe as I’ve ever been.

Here are the pics I snapped along the way...here comes 5527Juliet to come pick me up =)  

 The inside view

 

Co-Pilot? Roger that.

 Ready for Take-Off

 He ALWAYS goes over a check list - safety first! And silence in the cabin!

 Hello neighbor.

 Up we go!

 Can you find all the windmills???

 I knew exactly when we were in Michigan! How? Look at at all the lakes! (take that OH;)

 Runway in sight.

 Our shadow.

 This is 5527J, prepared for landing.

 Our little plane has been a part of the Brittan family since I was a year old.  What a beat! And a trooper =)

 Daddy and his baby!

 This one was Luke's size...for a while.

 This bike was a huge part of my childhood - we keep it in the hanger to re-live the memories. Remember banana seats???

 He loves this thing...

 Yes, she has a blanket over her nose.  Gotta tuck the baby in!

So you can understand this complex man more - here are a list of his common sayings:

“You’ll get nothing and like it.”

“Go to bed, little train.”

“Do-wee.”

“Well, that’s just great.”

“Would you PLEASE use your brain.”

“Think, McFly.”

“Here she comes, Miss Americaaa” (when I walk down the stairs in my house, he more sings this one)

“Who left the lights on?”

“Ok, you lost me.”

“You kids are spoiled rotten.”

So...that's the one I call daddy.  All in all, I guess I'm pretty lucky! <3