The last ten years of my life have been hard...for me and those around me. I have lost loved ones and gained children. I have walked with dear friends through their losses, whether to death, divorce, infidelity, job loss or depression. I have realized with stark clarity the hope that lies in God the father and have clung to Him as he anchors my life.
I have kept going with the best attitude I can muster and as much composure as I can possibly display. But it has been hard.
Last night however, my emotional gas tank was filled. I had one of those unexpected oasis days where I was filled with all I need to keep me going for awhile. The only home-cooked Pakistani food I like, prepared by my parents, who are not only up in age, but my mother has had health issues. So this was not only a labor of love but a physical labor as well. My heart is full of gratitude that is unparalled, and my stomach is full of food made with love. If you have never had your appetite satiated by food whose major spice was love you will not know the feeling I am talking about. But is is both physical as well as emotional and it leaves you COMPLETELY content. I wish this for each of you this Thanksgiving.
Surrounded by people who love me last night with no agenda and no expectations, I was overwhelmed by how blessed I truly am.
It's late and I have plenty more to say, but here is the single most important thing...my parents are the border on the quilt of my life. They are what holds everything else in place.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Childhood Birthdays...
Grab your cup of something warm and let's reminisce...
Think back on the birthdays of your childhood. Do you remember them? I do. My Dad worked with a lady that made Snoopy cakes, and Samina and I were always thrilled when we got one! My Mom was one of the most creative ladies I know and she always had some sort of craft for us to make. We lived in married housing at U of M, and there was a wood in front of our townhouse. I remember one year my mother had us go outside and choose three to four different leaves from the edge of the wood. When we came back in and she gave us brown paper lunch sack and crayons with the paper peeled away. We, carefully put the leaves in the sacks and did leaf rubbings to decorate our bags. Then we wrote our names on them and Voila, personalized lunch bags!
These days those bags would have been used as treat bags, that would be filled with all sorts of plastic junk... Really Moms...realistically what has your child received in a treat bag that they just treasure. Most of the stuff we have received has been tossed within a week or two. Also, if you want a personalized lunch bag may I recommend Pottery Barn Kids? When on sale the price is really quite reasonable. Definitely not as creative, but it will last a lot longer!
Birthday parties of today are usually at a venue . And in speaking with a friend today it really is worth it. Today we had a party for Gracie at Maplewood Lanes in Saline. The kids bowled a game...which took a while since it was a fair sized group. They had pizza and cake and we had a great time! And all for about 9 bucks a kid! Gracie has either had, or been invited to parties at Chuck E. Cheese, Jungle Java, Putt and Glow, Build a Bear and other places. And they are all fun, cost effective, and you don't have to clean your house before and after.
But I have to say...I miss the parties of old. The ones in your home, where you open your house to your kids friends and they feel welcome and part of your family for a little while. I miss the days when the kids all knew the parents and there was a sense of community there.
We are blessed to have a daughter that has made some great friends. Most of their parents have the same morals and values that we do and it is a great thing to know we are on the same page. I still crave that old sense of community. The old neighborhood feel. That feeling where everyone knew everyone else within a mile of their home and they all looked out for one another.
But we have to create that for ourselves. It doesn't just happen.
Today as I scanned the birthday party for a minute, not participating but just observing I did see a bit of that. Kids were laughing and parents were chatting with one another. It was so nice to know that these people had taken time out of their days and schedules to bring there kids to Gracie's party to celebrate her. I was grateful for her "network" of friends. I was grateful that for the most part they all knew someone else there and they all got along.
When you step back and look at these moments in life you can't keep the smile from breaking across your face. When I see my daughter laughing from her gut, her smile full of gaps as the adult teeth fight to crowd out the baby teeth, as I see her brother smile at the sound of her laugh, and scan the crowd to see her Dad and her Papa standing together and grinning my soul is happy. As I see the kids and adults that we are blessed to call friends I can't help but be humbled by the wisdom of God to cross these people in our path.
With Thanksgiving just around the corner, you will hear a lot more about how God continues to bless me. But for now my gratitude is for these moments. The sunshine yellow blocks in the quilt of my life!
Think back on the birthdays of your childhood. Do you remember them? I do. My Dad worked with a lady that made Snoopy cakes, and Samina and I were always thrilled when we got one! My Mom was one of the most creative ladies I know and she always had some sort of craft for us to make. We lived in married housing at U of M, and there was a wood in front of our townhouse. I remember one year my mother had us go outside and choose three to four different leaves from the edge of the wood. When we came back in and she gave us brown paper lunch sack and crayons with the paper peeled away. We, carefully put the leaves in the sacks and did leaf rubbings to decorate our bags. Then we wrote our names on them and Voila, personalized lunch bags!
These days those bags would have been used as treat bags, that would be filled with all sorts of plastic junk... Really Moms...realistically what has your child received in a treat bag that they just treasure. Most of the stuff we have received has been tossed within a week or two. Also, if you want a personalized lunch bag may I recommend Pottery Barn Kids? When on sale the price is really quite reasonable. Definitely not as creative, but it will last a lot longer!
Birthday parties of today are usually at a venue . And in speaking with a friend today it really is worth it. Today we had a party for Gracie at Maplewood Lanes in Saline. The kids bowled a game...which took a while since it was a fair sized group. They had pizza and cake and we had a great time! And all for about 9 bucks a kid! Gracie has either had, or been invited to parties at Chuck E. Cheese, Jungle Java, Putt and Glow, Build a Bear and other places. And they are all fun, cost effective, and you don't have to clean your house before and after.
But I have to say...I miss the parties of old. The ones in your home, where you open your house to your kids friends and they feel welcome and part of your family for a little while. I miss the days when the kids all knew the parents and there was a sense of community there.
We are blessed to have a daughter that has made some great friends. Most of their parents have the same morals and values that we do and it is a great thing to know we are on the same page. I still crave that old sense of community. The old neighborhood feel. That feeling where everyone knew everyone else within a mile of their home and they all looked out for one another.
But we have to create that for ourselves. It doesn't just happen.
Today as I scanned the birthday party for a minute, not participating but just observing I did see a bit of that. Kids were laughing and parents were chatting with one another. It was so nice to know that these people had taken time out of their days and schedules to bring there kids to Gracie's party to celebrate her. I was grateful for her "network" of friends. I was grateful that for the most part they all knew someone else there and they all got along.
When you step back and look at these moments in life you can't keep the smile from breaking across your face. When I see my daughter laughing from her gut, her smile full of gaps as the adult teeth fight to crowd out the baby teeth, as I see her brother smile at the sound of her laugh, and scan the crowd to see her Dad and her Papa standing together and grinning my soul is happy. As I see the kids and adults that we are blessed to call friends I can't help but be humbled by the wisdom of God to cross these people in our path.
With Thanksgiving just around the corner, you will hear a lot more about how God continues to bless me. But for now my gratitude is for these moments. The sunshine yellow blocks in the quilt of my life!
Thursday, November 18, 2010
The Pressure Cooker
Man! I am having one of those months where the pressure is coming from all sides! But maybe it's just that my defenses are down and my coping mechanism needs a rest. Pressure has such a negative conotation to it. But in the example of the pressure cooker, things are tenderized through the pressure. It is in pressure filled times like this that I remember the formula for getting through without "blowing my top". It's God! Every time life gets overwhelming and I think, "I just don't have it in me to get through!" Every time things get difficult and I think, "someone else can probably handle this but it sure ain't me!", God reminds me that, miracle of all miracles, I am right! I don't have it in me to get through all of the "crap" that life throws my way! But I don't have to! If I give it to God I am guaranteed success! Someone else probably could get through the things that I just can't seem to, but you know what? Again, I dont' need to handle all that comes my way. I have a God and saviour who will equip me. And through the process if I am willing to follow His lead the agony of the pressure could very well tenderize me, make me a better person, and hopefully more like Christ.
The first step I have to take is to recognize. I have to figure out who are the people and what are the things that bring on the pressure and stress. I know that I have pressure at home being a wife and mother, I have pressure at work as most people do, I have pressure in my other roles...daughter, sister, aunt, and friend. And most importantly I have the pressure of the unrealistic expectations that I put on myself. That is a lot of pressure! But, I also have to recognize the people and things that bring me joy. And in most cases the same things that bring me joy, pressure me. I find extreme joy in both my family of origin and the family I have created with Chip. I find joy in serving the Lord in my current job. I find joy in my extended family and my friends. So what does this balance mean?
It means that, next, I have to find a way to change my circumstances. Have you ever noticed that there are some days where something that wouldn't have bothered you yesterday has become your breaking point today? I am annoyed to say that I recognize my health, my lack of sleep and improper nutrition as contributors to this. That doesn't mean that the circumstances aren't difficult, it just makes me aware of the fact that if I am not well, tired or have eaten things that drain my energy, I will find it much harder to cope.
Lastly, when I am pressured I have to find a way to "escape". No, I don't have the money to charter a plane and whisk myself off to a relaxing spa on Maui. But I can sit and write, or take a bubble bath, or sit with a cup of hot tea and read my Bible. All of these things alleviate pressure for me. I also, need to find ways to get enough sleep, do what I need to in order to be the healthiest I can possibly be and maybe eat two chocolate chip cookies for dessert instead of four for breakfast...
Can you relate to the pressure cooker days? If so, my suggestion is to first and foremost seek God as your strength and refuge. He will help you through the stuff you just can't get through on your own...He will be your strong tower where you can find rest. Secondly, recognize your "pressure points", and your sources of joy. Find a balance and I think you will find peace while you cope instead of the customary chaos and anxiety.
The pressure adds some vibrant, although not so attractive quilt blocks to my quilt. But without them the quilt would be less interesting.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
You Want Me to Remember You How?
Many of you have read the blog about my Uncle Vino. Most of you have caused me to cry with your comments. Either you remember him from our wedding or other times he was here to visit or you wish you had known him. Reading each comment has been bittersweet...all except one.
I have a friend named Iggy. He is one of the most wonderful people I have ever been blessed to know. After reading about my uncle he told me what he would like to happen at his funeral...something about Hooters waitresses...and well, that is just Ig. He is incorrigible and I love him dearly.
But I told him that, all jokes aside, that is not how I would "blog" about him if I lost him. Not that losing him is something I even want to think about. But it did get me thinking about how I would like to be remembered. What would others say about how they would like to be remembered? For that matter, how would YOU like to be remembered? My thoughts went even deeper and I began to think about how much I love to support and encourage those around me. I really do get a jolt of happiness from telling others about the good I see in them. So why is it that we wait? Why do we talk so nicely about people when they are gone and unable to hear it? Why are we so outwardly uncomfortable when others compliment us, when, secretly, on the inside it makes us feel great? Well, I am tired of not telling others how wonderful they are because it might be uncomfortable or they might think I am phony. Who cares. If it will encourage them, change the scope of their day or cause them to smile inside then mission accomplished!
So that is what I am going to do now. I am not going to wait for my dear friend Iggy to be gone. I am not going to indulge him with stories about Hooters waitresses no matter how funny that may be. I am going to tell the truth. And if you know him, you can affirm what I say. If you don't then I would love to introduce you to him sometime.
Iggy is one of those people that you can't help but like from the moment you meet him. He has no expectations of you except that you smile and enjoy the time that you are with him. His charm, humor and hugs are like a magnet to young and old. He is every guys favorite football buddy and every girls "best-guy-friend". If you happen to be a girl and are married, as am I, inevitably Iggy will become a great friend to your spouse. If you have kids he morphs into "Uncle Iggy!"
Iggy, is unconditional. He has been through some of the highest and lowest points in life with me, and has never once judged me or resented me. He is one of the most stable and consistent friendships I have. We can go without seeing each other for long stretches of time, but never without communicating. When we do see each other it's like time has stood still and we pick up right where we left off.
Iggy is adventurous. He has packed up his life and moved to Florida to work on a golf course...then packed up again to take ten months off and walk the great wall of China with his good friend Jamie. He is currently in Abu Dhabi and Dubai with his mother working to better the lives of special needs kids in the school systems there. It is so very interesting to sit with him and look at the pictures of his adventures and hear the stories that correspond. My daughter has learned a great deal of geography and social science from Uncle Iggy as he tells her about the places he has seen and the experiences he has had there.
Iggy is generous. When he comes home from one of his many trips my children are so happy to see him. He gives of his time and himself to them as well as to Chip and I. My little ones climb on him as if he were a jungle gym. And this big bear of a man is perfectly fine with that. Whenever you sit by Iggy his arm inevitably wraps itself around your shoulder and the kids always scramble to be the first to sit right next to him. They are lucky if they beat me there! After we have spent time with this wonderful man, just before he leaves our home, he always pulls out gifts from wherever he has been most recently. My children are always in awe of what he brings. Whether it's real pirate treasure, or a genuine genie lamp, or a vibrating, squawking parrot, there is always a story to go along with the gift. Something that makes it exciting and precious to them. (By the way, I am not such a big fan of the parrot.)
When all is said and done, Iggy is a spark of sunshine in a world filled with darkness. He is an example of how to live with a smile on your face no matter what your circumstances. Kinda reminds me of the apostle Paul... He is loving and kind and my world is a better place because I am honoured to call him my friend. How do I ever thank God for such an undeserved blessing?
So, my charge to you is this. Who can you encourage today? Who's day will you change? When you think something nice about someone, push past the social awkwardness and let your words bless them.
Iggy, I love you, and I am so very proud to have you as a square in the quilt of my life.
I have a friend named Iggy. He is one of the most wonderful people I have ever been blessed to know. After reading about my uncle he told me what he would like to happen at his funeral...something about Hooters waitresses...and well, that is just Ig. He is incorrigible and I love him dearly.
But I told him that, all jokes aside, that is not how I would "blog" about him if I lost him. Not that losing him is something I even want to think about. But it did get me thinking about how I would like to be remembered. What would others say about how they would like to be remembered? For that matter, how would YOU like to be remembered? My thoughts went even deeper and I began to think about how much I love to support and encourage those around me. I really do get a jolt of happiness from telling others about the good I see in them. So why is it that we wait? Why do we talk so nicely about people when they are gone and unable to hear it? Why are we so outwardly uncomfortable when others compliment us, when, secretly, on the inside it makes us feel great? Well, I am tired of not telling others how wonderful they are because it might be uncomfortable or they might think I am phony. Who cares. If it will encourage them, change the scope of their day or cause them to smile inside then mission accomplished!
So that is what I am going to do now. I am not going to wait for my dear friend Iggy to be gone. I am not going to indulge him with stories about Hooters waitresses no matter how funny that may be. I am going to tell the truth. And if you know him, you can affirm what I say. If you don't then I would love to introduce you to him sometime.
Iggy is one of those people that you can't help but like from the moment you meet him. He has no expectations of you except that you smile and enjoy the time that you are with him. His charm, humor and hugs are like a magnet to young and old. He is every guys favorite football buddy and every girls "best-guy-friend". If you happen to be a girl and are married, as am I, inevitably Iggy will become a great friend to your spouse. If you have kids he morphs into "Uncle Iggy!"
Iggy, is unconditional. He has been through some of the highest and lowest points in life with me, and has never once judged me or resented me. He is one of the most stable and consistent friendships I have. We can go without seeing each other for long stretches of time, but never without communicating. When we do see each other it's like time has stood still and we pick up right where we left off.
Iggy is adventurous. He has packed up his life and moved to Florida to work on a golf course...then packed up again to take ten months off and walk the great wall of China with his good friend Jamie. He is currently in Abu Dhabi and Dubai with his mother working to better the lives of special needs kids in the school systems there. It is so very interesting to sit with him and look at the pictures of his adventures and hear the stories that correspond. My daughter has learned a great deal of geography and social science from Uncle Iggy as he tells her about the places he has seen and the experiences he has had there.
Iggy is generous. When he comes home from one of his many trips my children are so happy to see him. He gives of his time and himself to them as well as to Chip and I. My little ones climb on him as if he were a jungle gym. And this big bear of a man is perfectly fine with that. Whenever you sit by Iggy his arm inevitably wraps itself around your shoulder and the kids always scramble to be the first to sit right next to him. They are lucky if they beat me there! After we have spent time with this wonderful man, just before he leaves our home, he always pulls out gifts from wherever he has been most recently. My children are always in awe of what he brings. Whether it's real pirate treasure, or a genuine genie lamp, or a vibrating, squawking parrot, there is always a story to go along with the gift. Something that makes it exciting and precious to them. (By the way, I am not such a big fan of the parrot.)
When all is said and done, Iggy is a spark of sunshine in a world filled with darkness. He is an example of how to live with a smile on your face no matter what your circumstances. Kinda reminds me of the apostle Paul... He is loving and kind and my world is a better place because I am honoured to call him my friend. How do I ever thank God for such an undeserved blessing?
So, my charge to you is this. Who can you encourage today? Who's day will you change? When you think something nice about someone, push past the social awkwardness and let your words bless them.
Iggy, I love you, and I am so very proud to have you as a square in the quilt of my life.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
And The Beat Goes On...
So, the world keeps spinning and life keeps happening. Sometimes it feels as if we are on a hamster wheel, just repeating the weekdays, month after month...year after year. Vacations and the weekends are the only time we truly feel alive; the only time we actually participate with alertness and intentionality. If this isn't you, at least some of the time, email me and tell me your secret!
My days start the same. I wake up between 6 and 6:30 a.m. quietly navigating the house so as not to wake up my sleeping children. I cherish this time of morning, knowing that I can sit at the dinette with my hot cup of "Adi" tea and my Bible and try intentionally to listen to the lesson God would have me learn that day. This time seems to give me balance and perspective and starts me off with a much better attitude than I would otherwise have... I have found that when I skip this choice morsel of time in the morning nothing else seems to fall quite into place. The peices of the puzzle fit, but they are in the wrong places, forced into spaces that they don't belong making the picture something it should not be. If you have seen me on one of these days you know it's just WRONG!
Have you noticed that we all have a rhythm to our days? A monotony that exists without our interception? How many days go by without our participation? How many times are we just on autopilot? For me it's many days. Am I proud of that? Of course not. The rhythm of my days has slowed way down. Not the amount of things I have to do or the places I have to be...but the speed at which I move.
So I have decided this. I have to move to a differnt beat. I have to claim myself back and remove myself from the trap of monotony! Who's with me? I have decided to really take my relationships seriously. To listen to my kids and my husband when they speak. To make time for my parents. To enrich my time with my sisters and their families and to communicate more with my friends.
I have decided that if the beat must go on I am going to be the metronome and set the pace. The quilt of my life consists of the monotonous days...but it's time that I started choosing the fabric!
My days start the same. I wake up between 6 and 6:30 a.m. quietly navigating the house so as not to wake up my sleeping children. I cherish this time of morning, knowing that I can sit at the dinette with my hot cup of "Adi" tea and my Bible and try intentionally to listen to the lesson God would have me learn that day. This time seems to give me balance and perspective and starts me off with a much better attitude than I would otherwise have... I have found that when I skip this choice morsel of time in the morning nothing else seems to fall quite into place. The peices of the puzzle fit, but they are in the wrong places, forced into spaces that they don't belong making the picture something it should not be. If you have seen me on one of these days you know it's just WRONG!
Have you noticed that we all have a rhythm to our days? A monotony that exists without our interception? How many days go by without our participation? How many times are we just on autopilot? For me it's many days. Am I proud of that? Of course not. The rhythm of my days has slowed way down. Not the amount of things I have to do or the places I have to be...but the speed at which I move.
So I have decided this. I have to move to a differnt beat. I have to claim myself back and remove myself from the trap of monotony! Who's with me? I have decided to really take my relationships seriously. To listen to my kids and my husband when they speak. To make time for my parents. To enrich my time with my sisters and their families and to communicate more with my friends.
I have decided that if the beat must go on I am going to be the metronome and set the pace. The quilt of my life consists of the monotonous days...but it's time that I started choosing the fabric!
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Why won't the world stop for my loss?
Have you ever lost someone and felt like your world abruptly stopped, only to look out the window and see thousands of strangers passing by whose worlds were still moving right along? You find your loss temporarily paralyzing and expect the world to stop with you. How can they keep going when someone so important has just left this earth and our lives?
If you have ever felt this way, please...let your world stop for a few moments, grab a cup of something warm and let me tell you about my Uncle Vino; the man so many lost on Sunday, November 7th...the man we said goodbye to on ,November 11th. Sit back and read. If you didn't know him I am sure you will wish you had...
I walked into the funeral home expecting it to be semi empty as the ceremony would not start for another half hour. Instead the room was almost filled. My cousins sat at the front close to the casket that held my Uncle. Even in death he commanded the room. You could almost smell the light fragrance of love,respect and sorrow that floated through the air that morning. My mind was racing...should my small children enter the room with me? How can I be supportive to my Dad who just lost his big brother? How will I keep myself from crying? The boys, Uncle Vino's three sons, shouldn't feel the need to comfort me, it's my job to comfort them. Will I have the chance to speak? Will my husband, Chip, handle my two year old son if he gets bored, loud, or cranky? More than anything I selfishly wanted twenty minutes alone in that room to speak to my uncle one last time; time to allow the reality of the situation to take hold of me. But that was not to be. Even now reality is still chasing me. As I sat down my memories of him came flooding back like my own private movie and I found myself smiling. However as I watched my father walk up to the casket and kiss his big brother good bye, as he embraced his nephews and sobbed, as I saw sorrow personified on each of his son's faces and the crying of many others entered my ears the smile ran away from my face.
The funeral began with the customary scripture reading, prayer and hymns. As the pastor prayed I watched my oldest cousin Virgil stare intently at his father with sorrow never once closing his eyes, never once removing his eyes from his father. My heart ached so much for him that I literally felt pain in my chest and stomach. I couldn't get air to fill my lungs as I held back the sobs that wanted so badly to escape my body. But my seven year old daughter and six year old niece were sitting next to me and it was my job to stay composed and not add to the confusion that already surrounded their little worlds.
As the rituals continued the time drew near for those who loved uncle Vino to speak, and there were many. I prayed that I would have the chance to approach the mic...to let everyone know how I felt about this great man. And my prayers were answered. As nieces and nephews got up and spoke, as his sons and his brother bravely shared, it was apparent that my uncle had a gift. The gift to make others aware of their value. Story after story of his patience and kindness filled the room. My cousin Amil talked about how Uncle Vino taught him how to drive,and how he would wait for my Uncle to fall asleep so he could take the car for a joy ride! My cousin Anita spoke of the personal conversations she had with my Uncle; conversations where he would tell her how she was the daughter he never had. My father spoke about his big brother's patience when teaching Dad to ride a bike and of their last conversation where Dad encouraged Uncle Vino to write a book about his life. Virgil, his oldest son could not speak...so he got up and pointed to the audience saying, "you are the pages of the book that was never written". Adi, his middle son spoke of Uncle Vino's love for him and his pride in the fact that Adi chose to go into the ministry and made bringing others to Christ his life's work. Neil, the baby, spoke of his humbleness...for all of his worldly accomplishments and credentials he would still wash the dishes in Neil's sink early in the morning, quietly, so as not to wake his sleeping son.
When my turn came nothing that I wanted to say came out. Truth be told I have no idea what I said.
But here is what I would have liked to say...
My uncle was a great man with a list of accomplishments a mile long. But he would let anyone know that his three sons who were his life, were his greatest accomplishment. He was an amazing husband who adored his wife and never really got over her untimely death in the late 80's. He was a stern but loving brother and uncle...and he reminded me of a tougher version of my Dad. My Papa Das, Dad and Vino's father, died when I was quite young. So I sort of viewed Uncle Vino as my grandpa. And he fit the role comfortably.
One of my earliest memories of Uncle Vino was in the 1970's. I was a young child and had been ill for a few days when my uncle came to visit. My father had spent a great deal of time peeling grapes and feeding them to me to keep me nourished. He peeled each grape because they were red and I would only eat green grapes. He painstakingly peeled grapes because I loved them and he knew they would keep me hydrated as I refused to drink much. My uncle came into my room and saw how tired my dad was and told me I needed fresh air. After traveling a long way to visit he spent the next hour carrying me through the neighborhood, making sure I had enough fresh air and my dad had a break, not once putting himself first. Uncle Vino continued to be a part of mine and my sisters lives, attending both of our weddings and making sure he communicated with us shortly after each of our kids were born. Shortly after we always received a baby gift in the mail. But the real gift was his thoughtfulness and communication.
I feel guilty for not calling him as often as I could have when I had the chance. But the times that I did call him or he called me, those times are mine; those times are precious gifts that I treasure, cherish and remember fondly. I will share a few of those with you, just to continue showing you how great he was.
When my sister got married there was some sort of misunderstanding between my Dad and my uncle. My sister got caught in the cross hairs as my uncle and cousins decided not to show up to her reception. It was hurtful to her and if you know me at all hurting my sister is unacceptable. I called to let my uncle know that his male Pakistani pride had caused my sister pain and I was not okay with that. I used a few choice colorful words that were definitely NOT a part of his vocabulary and admittedly disrespectful. Did he cut me off after that? No. Did he let me know what I did was wrong? No to that as well. He had enough faith in me to know that I would beat myself up about it. And when I did call to apologize, he accepted and quickly moved the conversation on, wanting to know how I was and what was going on in my life. I have used that example of forgiveness in my own life many times. Recently, we spoke again about my life and the direction it was taking. It was an honour to hear that he was proud of me for turning away from a financially stable and worldly prestigious job to work at my church promoting Jesus Christ by helping others to know Him. Again, what an honour to have Dr. Vincent A. Das proud of me...
My uncle had a potent passion for those that he loved. I don't believe that man ever met a stranger and it showed. From his family to his friends to his students and others, if he loved you he loved you with all of his might. I think the most important thing I can tell you about him is that he had a passion for Jesus Christ and for showing Christ's love to others. That was his way of introducing you to Jesus and I know he was the reason for the faith of many. You were blessed if you knew him, and if you didn't but you know Christ you will be blessed to meet him one day.
If you didn't know him or Christ, it's too late to know my uncle on this side of heaven. But in the interest of promoting his legacy I would love to introduce you to Christ. As long as you are breathing it's never to late to know Him.
Thank you for taking the time to let me show you a bit of my uncle. I have not told you nearly enough and I have just typed out my thoughts in no particular order. I pray that my love shows through and that my words do him justice.
Vincent Das is definitely a square in the quilt of my life.
If you have ever felt this way, please...let your world stop for a few moments, grab a cup of something warm and let me tell you about my Uncle Vino; the man so many lost on Sunday, November 7th...the man we said goodbye to on ,November 11th. Sit back and read. If you didn't know him I am sure you will wish you had...
I walked into the funeral home expecting it to be semi empty as the ceremony would not start for another half hour. Instead the room was almost filled. My cousins sat at the front close to the casket that held my Uncle. Even in death he commanded the room. You could almost smell the light fragrance of love,respect and sorrow that floated through the air that morning. My mind was racing...should my small children enter the room with me? How can I be supportive to my Dad who just lost his big brother? How will I keep myself from crying? The boys, Uncle Vino's three sons, shouldn't feel the need to comfort me, it's my job to comfort them. Will I have the chance to speak? Will my husband, Chip, handle my two year old son if he gets bored, loud, or cranky? More than anything I selfishly wanted twenty minutes alone in that room to speak to my uncle one last time; time to allow the reality of the situation to take hold of me. But that was not to be. Even now reality is still chasing me. As I sat down my memories of him came flooding back like my own private movie and I found myself smiling. However as I watched my father walk up to the casket and kiss his big brother good bye, as he embraced his nephews and sobbed, as I saw sorrow personified on each of his son's faces and the crying of many others entered my ears the smile ran away from my face.
The funeral began with the customary scripture reading, prayer and hymns. As the pastor prayed I watched my oldest cousin Virgil stare intently at his father with sorrow never once closing his eyes, never once removing his eyes from his father. My heart ached so much for him that I literally felt pain in my chest and stomach. I couldn't get air to fill my lungs as I held back the sobs that wanted so badly to escape my body. But my seven year old daughter and six year old niece were sitting next to me and it was my job to stay composed and not add to the confusion that already surrounded their little worlds.
As the rituals continued the time drew near for those who loved uncle Vino to speak, and there were many. I prayed that I would have the chance to approach the mic...to let everyone know how I felt about this great man. And my prayers were answered. As nieces and nephews got up and spoke, as his sons and his brother bravely shared, it was apparent that my uncle had a gift. The gift to make others aware of their value. Story after story of his patience and kindness filled the room. My cousin Amil talked about how Uncle Vino taught him how to drive,and how he would wait for my Uncle to fall asleep so he could take the car for a joy ride! My cousin Anita spoke of the personal conversations she had with my Uncle; conversations where he would tell her how she was the daughter he never had. My father spoke about his big brother's patience when teaching Dad to ride a bike and of their last conversation where Dad encouraged Uncle Vino to write a book about his life. Virgil, his oldest son could not speak...so he got up and pointed to the audience saying, "you are the pages of the book that was never written". Adi, his middle son spoke of Uncle Vino's love for him and his pride in the fact that Adi chose to go into the ministry and made bringing others to Christ his life's work. Neil, the baby, spoke of his humbleness...for all of his worldly accomplishments and credentials he would still wash the dishes in Neil's sink early in the morning, quietly, so as not to wake his sleeping son.
When my turn came nothing that I wanted to say came out. Truth be told I have no idea what I said.
But here is what I would have liked to say...
My uncle was a great man with a list of accomplishments a mile long. But he would let anyone know that his three sons who were his life, were his greatest accomplishment. He was an amazing husband who adored his wife and never really got over her untimely death in the late 80's. He was a stern but loving brother and uncle...and he reminded me of a tougher version of my Dad. My Papa Das, Dad and Vino's father, died when I was quite young. So I sort of viewed Uncle Vino as my grandpa. And he fit the role comfortably.
One of my earliest memories of Uncle Vino was in the 1970's. I was a young child and had been ill for a few days when my uncle came to visit. My father had spent a great deal of time peeling grapes and feeding them to me to keep me nourished. He peeled each grape because they were red and I would only eat green grapes. He painstakingly peeled grapes because I loved them and he knew they would keep me hydrated as I refused to drink much. My uncle came into my room and saw how tired my dad was and told me I needed fresh air. After traveling a long way to visit he spent the next hour carrying me through the neighborhood, making sure I had enough fresh air and my dad had a break, not once putting himself first. Uncle Vino continued to be a part of mine and my sisters lives, attending both of our weddings and making sure he communicated with us shortly after each of our kids were born. Shortly after we always received a baby gift in the mail. But the real gift was his thoughtfulness and communication.
I feel guilty for not calling him as often as I could have when I had the chance. But the times that I did call him or he called me, those times are mine; those times are precious gifts that I treasure, cherish and remember fondly. I will share a few of those with you, just to continue showing you how great he was.
When my sister got married there was some sort of misunderstanding between my Dad and my uncle. My sister got caught in the cross hairs as my uncle and cousins decided not to show up to her reception. It was hurtful to her and if you know me at all hurting my sister is unacceptable. I called to let my uncle know that his male Pakistani pride had caused my sister pain and I was not okay with that. I used a few choice colorful words that were definitely NOT a part of his vocabulary and admittedly disrespectful. Did he cut me off after that? No. Did he let me know what I did was wrong? No to that as well. He had enough faith in me to know that I would beat myself up about it. And when I did call to apologize, he accepted and quickly moved the conversation on, wanting to know how I was and what was going on in my life. I have used that example of forgiveness in my own life many times. Recently, we spoke again about my life and the direction it was taking. It was an honour to hear that he was proud of me for turning away from a financially stable and worldly prestigious job to work at my church promoting Jesus Christ by helping others to know Him. Again, what an honour to have Dr. Vincent A. Das proud of me...
My uncle had a potent passion for those that he loved. I don't believe that man ever met a stranger and it showed. From his family to his friends to his students and others, if he loved you he loved you with all of his might. I think the most important thing I can tell you about him is that he had a passion for Jesus Christ and for showing Christ's love to others. That was his way of introducing you to Jesus and I know he was the reason for the faith of many. You were blessed if you knew him, and if you didn't but you know Christ you will be blessed to meet him one day.
If you didn't know him or Christ, it's too late to know my uncle on this side of heaven. But in the interest of promoting his legacy I would love to introduce you to Christ. As long as you are breathing it's never to late to know Him.
Thank you for taking the time to let me show you a bit of my uncle. I have not told you nearly enough and I have just typed out my thoughts in no particular order. I pray that my love shows through and that my words do him justice.
Vincent Das is definitely a square in the quilt of my life.
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