Grampa Freeborn

My dad's dad died Sunday night (3/20/11).

I can count on one hand the number of times I've met him in my life.  Yet I feel so sorrowful.  I was fine all day on Monday, but this morning at work I was near tears the entire morning.  Finally I went in my boss' office just to hash it out and get on with the day.  When I walked in she immediately asked me if I was okay.  I burst in to tears and couldn't get ahold of myself.  After I was sobbing in her office for about 10 minutes, she said I should just go home; take a bereavement day.  I told her that wouldn't be necessary but then after about 5 more minutes of still not being able to get my emotions under control I agreed and left.  I was that girl you sometimes see driving who's a crying wreck and you wonder what happened.

I'm not exactly sure what was going on, but I do think I mostly just feel sad that I never really knew him.  I (obviously) have 4 grandparents.  Over the course of my life I have actually had 12 (from stepdad's parents, grandparents remarrying, great-grandparents).  And while statistically that seems great, I have only really known one of them.  


My Grama (Dorlene) Freeborn died when I was just a kid, I don't even remember how old I was.  I only remember meeting her one time.  My dad, mom and two younger brothers drove one summer all the way down to San Antonio, TX from Kenosha, WI in our VW Rabbit.  I met her down there.  She carried a pan of potatoes into my cousin Hannah's house and that's the only image I have of her in my mind.  She just keeps carrying that pan of potatoes through my memories.

My Grampa (John) Brandt I knew a bit more, but not too much.  He struggled as an alcoholic and about half of my few childhood memories involved him drinking too much.  The other half involve him just being a silly grampa.  Then when I was 8 or 9 he was diagnosed with Alzheimer's and he just slipped away.  By the time I was 14 he was totally gone and had to put into the care of a nursing home.  I'd go see him occasionally, but he was only a body in that bed.  He died not too long ago (3 years?  4?).  And while that was sad, it is true what they say that Alzheimer's patients die two deaths; and I had come to terms with him being gone a long time before he physically died.

My Grama (Phyllis) Brandt is still alive and well.  And she's the only one I really know.  

So that brings us to Grampa (J. Andrew) Freeborn.

He led a hard life.  He also led a wonderful life.  He knew the Lord very well.  He was a traveling preacher and would lead tent revivals all over the south when my dad was a kid.  He also struggled with being bipolar his entire life.  He wasn't even diagnosed until his thirties, but after that he spent many years in and out of psychiatric hospitals trying to stabilize himself.  After my Grama Freeborn died he remarried a lady I really loved as a grama named Arlene.  I'm not sure what happened, but they ended up divorcing.  He then married Geraldine.  And Grama Gerry is lovely.  She can also bake the best things of anyone in the south.  He founded a church in northern California, pastored numerous churches throughout his lifetime, taught at the International Bible College in San Antonio, and I'm sure did much more than I know of.

I suppose what really got me was all the comments people have been leaving on my dad's Facebook profile.  Here are some of my favorites, typos and all:

God bless you and your family, Michael. Your dad touched so many lives for the kingdom. I join with them in expressing my gratitude for such a man and for the season he spoke into my life.

Michael - We have appreciated your family very much. The practical application of the word was of the highest importance to your dad, and it has had a lasting impact on us. We bless your family today.

This is like the passing of an era. As long as I have had memory, Andrew was a part of it. We loved and respected his ministry and as a person. We were privileged to enjoy his company for a few months out of his life and he was like a brother. Our hearts are heavy this morning, but oh what a wonderful day for Andrew. All that he has loved, he has now obtained. Our love and prayers will be with you and the family. Please give Geri our best.

Michael and the family, As you know your mom and dad had a great deal to do with our early lives in ministry, when we were getting ready to go to Mexico, etc. They were always a blessing. I am sorry to hear of his passing, but I also know that he is happy in the presence of the Lord! How he must be rejoicing. We love all of you.

michael, i am so sorry to hear such sad news. our thoughts go with you as you travel...your dad was a good man, and dave came to the Lord under your dad's ministry. may you be comforted in Jesus...

Michael. I'm sitting here with tears running down, thinking about you and the family, lots of good memories of your precious dad and mom, knowing your pain, but, rejoicing in the Lord just knowing ....WONT' WE HAVE A TIME WHEN WE GET OVER YONDER. lots of prayers are coming your way. love you much!!!

We will never forget your Father; I always enjoyed his preaching when I had the privilidge to hear him. Heaven has welcomed a hero!

He has left a footprint on the lives of thousands and may we be stirred to follow his example.

Michael, sending condolences to you and your family. I remember classes with your dad (and "Queens of the Parsonage" with your mother). His class on "Names of God" was one of my favorites. It was your dad who encouraged me to to a 4th year to IBC. He was certainly a blessing to me…and I'm sure, to many others, as well.

so sorry about that....a great church pillar....

Michael--your Dad left a legacy that can only be measured in heaven. 

Sorry to hear that Mike, There is a lot of respect for him here.

Such fond memories of your Dad and Mom at Northern District, CA youth camps (including all you kids with them) - can't ever remember you kids not being with them on their annual trek to our camps. Your Dad was morning teacher and your Mom was camp nurse and all the influence they had with so many of us involved. We were so blessed by his ministry! The Lord comfort you and your family is our prayer.

I am sorry Michael. My mom told me the news yesterday. Your dad (and mom) are part of some of the earliest memories of my life! They were kinda like "superstars"! :D Feel comfort in the fact that so many people have felt loved by them and, in turn, we will not forget!

In reading these comments from strangers, I can't help but feel that I missed knowing an amazing man.  It's a strange thing grieving for someone you never knew.  And even though I never knew him in this lifetime, I know I'll have all of eternity to dance and shout with him.

Writing Exercise

Today at my writer's group we did a writing exercise, as we normally do, however I liked my outcome a lot, so I will share it.

The exercise was this:  choose two of the 24 fine point sharpies.  With the first color you must create a character, with the second a scenario to place the character in.

My colors were a deep purple and a very light baby blue color.

Here is my story.

***

Valerie is an old soul. She loves coffee (black) and oversized sweaters (olive green). She has long dark brown hair that often gets mistaken for black. She can often be found in at her local coffee shop sitting with her feet swung over the edge of the big red chair, tortoise shell glasses on the edge of her nose, book in hand. Even though she spends her days working in a local bookstore, she cannot get enough of them and spends the majority of her free time reading. She prefers Austen to Steinbeck, Keats to Cummings. She is a romantic at heart. She is not afraid to go for walks on rainy days, as her soft brown leather shoes are perfectly capable of keeping her dry. Her world is one full of dim, overcast days, but one full of quiet joys. She is equally happy listening to Vivaldi as she is to Morrison. Equally content to lead as follow. To many she seems quiet, bookish and somewhat mundane. But she sees the world through bright green eyes and it sparkles for her more than most.

She awoke this past Tuesday to nothing unusual or out of the ordinary. However when she stepped outside to walk the seven blocks to the bookstore, she couldn't help but feel blue. And not the deep, dark, depressed rundown blue, but the hopeful, light baby blue. (Not quite robins egg, but a bit more powdered.) She chalked it up to the slowly warming weather and the fact that for once, it was not raining in her cozy northwest town. It seemed as if every yard had bright green shoots of daffodils beginning to poke through the ground, and birds sang in every tree. She could hear the robins, but they were hidden against the gray sky. She found herself swinging her bag back and forth as she walked and had to smile remembering doing that exact thing with her backpack all those years ago. The air smelled lush and full of the promise of a spring that leads headlong into a glorious summer. She felt her spirit within her fluttering against her rib cage in excitement, the winter was almost over! While she did enjoy many of the dark, listless winter days, the affirmation of spring is almost more than she can take. She can feel the excitement running over her skin as a small hole forms in the cloud cover and a single ray of sunshine peeks through. Yes, that Tuesday was a good day.

Fat Bottomed Girls You Make The Rockin' World Go Round

It is no secret that I am a bigger woman.  What most of you probably don't know is how difficult it is to find cute clothing if you're a bigger woman.  For whatever reason, if you're bigger, stores assume you want to wear the brightest, boldest, most sequined, beaded thing imaginable.

The truth is, bigger women do not want to wear those things.

We know we're big, we don't need stores trying to just drape us in fabric to get the point across (ie...shawls aka tents).  And maybe that's a personal preference, however today I decided to go to Goodwill.  I often go to Goodwill looking for books and/or dvds (now that everyone's buying blu-ray discs, dvds abound!).  I have on occasion ventured over to the clothing racks.  I have found a few cute things there too. 

Today, however, I found myself appalled as I walked the clothing aisles.  And while I did end up buying two articles of clothing, it was difficult to find anything worth even trying on.

I present to you:

Things Bigger Women Would Never Be Caught Dead Wearing

1.  While stripes can be slimming, it is imperative that they be vertical.  And one color.  And one size.

2.  Colored animal prints?  Really?  And what you cannot see here is that this is sheer.  Danger!

3.  I have no words.  The picture stole them all.

4.  I am not one to shy away from color.  But this is not what big women want when they want to wear color!

5.  See #4

6. I, personally, believe nobody should wear sequins.  Or shirts with beads sewed on them.  And I'm pretty sure most big women would not want to be a huge disco ball.  Or a bad acid trip.

So there you have it.  Is it really so difficult to know why these things are not what big women want to wear?  And some poor woman somewhere, at some time, was coerced into buying the above items be being told "Look how sporty it makes you look!" or "You look so young and hip!".  If these items were never pawned off as stylish on the larger crowd, I think a lot of us would be much happier walking down the street.

That is all.

(In no way is this meant to be offensive to anyone.  These are merely thoughts I found myself thinking about today.)

Oh, and I almost forgot.  I worked for YEARS in multiple retail stores.  Is it really so difficult to keep the maternity clothing out of the big lady section??  (And yes, Goodwill is the culprit here, but I'm looking at you too Target!)

A Little Thing

I have been sick with a head cold/flu-type thing since Friday.  Not that I'm complaining about it, it's just relevent to this post.

Tonight I asked my nephews Noah (4) and Declan (2 1/2) to pray that Jesus would make me feel better.  Noah took my hand in his and placed his other hand on top of mine, closed his eyes and said "Jesus, help Sarah feel good.  Amen."  Then Declan put his little hand on my arm, closed his eyes and said, "Jesus, thank you for this food.  Bless it to our bodies.  Amen."

While I couldn't help but laugh a little, I was so blessed that they actually prayed for me.  They were so genuine and serious in it as well.  And in thinking about Declan's prayer, I was overwhelmed with how much God loves us.  Declan was simply praying the one prayer he knows, yet God knows his heart in what he was asking for. 

I love that God doesn't care about the words we use to pray with, how fancy or ornate a prayer is, but that He simply loves for us to come to Him.  And in our small faith, He sorts it all out because He knows our hearts.

I love Jesus so much.