Retrospective

Editor's Note: After several months' hiatus, Retrospective is back....thanks to all the readers who told me they missed it!

By Jennifer Zartman Romano

There is a Garth Brooks song about unanswered prayers -- how often we pray for something and hope it will turn out one way or the other. Initially, we're disappointed when God doesn't seem to grant out wishes and we move onward, dealing with the cards we're dealt. I can think of many times in my life when I've prayed... and prayed... and prayed... and prayed a whole lot more for a particular outcome -- and felt such sadness when what I wanted to happen simply didn't. With time, however, I've realized how insignificant some of those wants really were and I've been grateful for the outcome. Other times, I have never honestly come to terms with why things happened the way they did, but I've come to realize I don't need to

understand God's plan -- I just need to trust that He does! Life is so much less stressful when I turn my worries over to God.
Yesterday, I prayed very hard for something -- and I'm amazingly grateful God was listening. This silent prayer was answered and I can't help but look at life differently today.
My husband and I were returning from several days' vacation in California yesterday afternoon. It had been a wonderful trip -- sightseeing, wonderful meals, great adventures, delightful weather. We have some big changes coming in our life in the next few months and we realized this was probably our best opportunity for a quiet vacation together.
But, as every great vacation does, it came to an end and we boarded the plane and headed homeward. As I stepped on the plane, as I always do, I traced the sign of the cross with my index finger on the plane's doorway...just in case.
Traveling is stressful. Some baggage snafus shortly after boarding the plane left me with a rather bad attitude and angry thoughts which I dwelled on for much of the four hour flight. As our plane neared Chicago, I glanced out the window and saw snow-covered planes in Iowa and was glad we weren't landing there. This thought made me smile. After the pilot announced we'd be landing soon, my thoughts returned to home, my children, my family, my community. I was really excited to be coming home. Despite all the fun I'd had on vacation, I really couldn't wait to get home.
As our plane circled over Chicago and began it's decent, I closed my eyes and prayed silently... but very hard... for a safe landing so that I could return home to my children, my family, my life. Hands still clasped in my lap, I opened my eyes and looked out the window. Buildings were growing larger in size and I could hear the plane's landing gear lower. I braced for the grip of the tires on the landing strip... but just as I anticipated the jolt of the plane coming down -- it went right back up in the air and banked sharply. What was happening? We were definitely not landing and fellow passengers were as confused as I was. I turned to my husband, who travels frequently, and asked, "Has this ever happened to you before?" His eyes wide open, he replied, "No. Never!"
Soon we were back up in the clouds and the plane was largely silent. I continued to watch out the window and wait and wonder.
Eventually, the pilot's voice broke the silence and he said that while we were supposed to have landed a few minutes before, as he prepared to bring the plane down -- within about five feet of the landing strip -- he had discovered another plane had not yet left the landing strip he had been assigned to. Had he landed the plane, we may have collided with that other plane. And as you know, with planes, there is little room for error and a lot of lives rely on the pilot's judgment and skill. I feel, however, that God had a lot to do with the positive outcome yesterday and I can't help but be grateful to be alive today. Everything could have ended in that moment.
We never really know when our last day will come, so it is important to look at the "near misses" in life as a wake up call. Could we live our lives differently? Could we be better friends to one another? Could we strive to be better parents and spouses? A little more effort today is definitely worth it when we consider what it means to those we touch with our lives -- particularly if the next time we call on God it is part of his plan that our prayer be unanswered.

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Written June 27, 2010

In a room meant to seem more relaxing than it was really capable of being, I sat.
Here and there, small groups of families stand or sit near one another, talking in hushed voices. Some sit alone, trying to read unable to focus. A television is on, but no one is really watching it. Outside, the sun has been replaced by raindrops on the window and a bleak, greyness in the sky. It matched our mood.

Inside the waiting room of the intensive care unit, in that room, people faced realities they were unprepared for.
A cardiologist emerged from a door and as tactfully as he could, told a family that their loved one had congestive heart failure and that his time yet to live was limited. Unable or maybe unwilling to understand that, they asked for clarification. They wanted more answers. He could only give them answers limited to his medical knowledge, but not for the things only God knows. How long will he live, they wondered aloud. "Half of the people in his condition will live six months or longer. Half will not." But how long would he live, they asked. The patient doctor did not know. They grew silent.
Awhile later, another door opened and a young man emerged. In a place filled with sadness and fear, a great smile spread across his face. He drew close to others and exclaimed, "This is, indeed, a very good day." On this day, his loved one would be moved to a new area of the hospital -- their prayers had been answered. Their loved one's condition had improved. You couldn't help but to be happy for them. They were the lucky ones there that day. There wasn't a lot of good news in a place where you see more tears and trepidation than smiles and joy.
Eventually, a door opened and a nurse emerged, her face grim - her motions quick. She wasn't there to answer the questions of the family concerned about their loved one's diagnosis. She wasn't there to share in the joy of the family whose loved one was being transferred out of intensive care. No, as much as we tried to prepare ourselves for the moment, she was there to see us...and deliver the news that while we might have hoped to spend even another day wondering about my husband's grandmother's future, her life was rapidly drawing to a close. It was time to say goodbye.
As I looked at her, surrounded by her children and a few grandchildren, I couldn't help but think how strong she had been. She was strongly committed to her children and her faith and in many ways, those two elements were the most constant in her life: children and the Catholic faith. Grandma had outlived three husbands. Her first husband died in World War II, leaving her with a baby son. Her second husband died a painful death from cancer in his early 30s, leaving her with two more toddlers and a set of infant twins. Her third husband she nursed through a sad end from Alzheimer's. She buried an adult son and a granddaughter in childhood. As a child, she was there when her little sister died on a playground in front of her. She knew struggle and sadness. I can't imagine the burden of sadness lived with and the many "if only" and "what ifs" she must have contemplated. Yet, her faith kept her focused on those things in her life that she could handle and on the many people in her life who were still there walking life's path with her.
She had nine children and three good marriages. She had 18 grandchildren and 18 great-grandchildren who adored her and who will always remember her hugs, her sweet smile, her voice and her baking. She enjoyed several trips, in her golden years, to visit friends in Australia. She enjoyed holidays around the table over a meal. She relished hugs from little ones and little ones who'd grown up to have those little ones. She sat quietly and serenely on hot days overlooking the lake. She looked with wonder at falling snow on winter days.
She found the things in life worth celebrating and never seemed to dwell much on the sadness, at least not that I ever heard. I know she still thought of them, though. I know she did. She dedicated Masses to them at church. And Sunday afternoon, as we said goodbye, I couldn't help but wonder if, standing there with Jesus, they were also waiting, arms outstretched, to welcome her to her eternal home.

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It's rare you can find the silver lining of being sick, but I did...just today in fact.

At home with a respiratory infection of some sort, I felt guilty sharing my germs with anyone and have been inside for the better part of the last four days. Today, it occurred to me that I had a wonderful opportunity to look through several boxes of family photos that I inherited when my grandparents moved in with my aunt and uncle awhile back. I dutifully took the photos home -- I'm the family genealogist and historian, after all. I packed them up when we moved last summer and brought them to a better space in the new house, never opening the boxes to have a look until today. Oh, but what treasures I found in there!

In years past, I've become quite familiar with my paternal grandmother's family history -- largely since most of it took place here in Whitley County. But my paternal grandfather's history has been largely a mystery. He doesn't elaborate much about it and I guess I've never asked enough questions. So, with each cabinet photo I pulled out of the box, I discovered a new ancestor this afternoon.
I determined that I must get my round face from the Clines, my dark eyes and arched eyebrows from the Zartmans and I've always thought my nose came from the Mains (on my mother's side). I determined that my grandfather looks a lot like his great aunt Monna and that my brother looks a lot like my grandfather's brother. I came across photos of so many great-great-great grandmothers and great-great-great grandfathers...I lost track truly. Plenty of new names to research...Mickelson, Burroughs, Cline, etc.
I found things that made me cry...letters written between family members when my grandfather's brother was in World War II and a tiny lock of brownish-auburn hair tucked inside an obituary for a baby girl who only lived five days -- my grandfather's baby sister. Such heartache my great-grandmother, Mary, endured losing two of her three children early in life. Still, she beemed in most of the photos I found of her -- the vibrant stories I've been told about her coming to life on photo paper.
I found things that made me wonder -- why is it that my grandmother appear to be smiling in most of her photos taken before she had four kids...but that she appears to be grimacing or spacing out in the ones when she has a whole brood clinging to her? Oh, wait, yeah...I understand. Four kids in a few years must have been mind-boggling -- and she worked, too. Still, the kids all looked perfectly neat and tidy clammoring around her and she looked dazed and bewildered.
I found things that made me laugh! I found quite a few photos of my dad as a little boy doing goofy, little boy type stunts. I found a great photo of my dad when "his hair was just gettin' good in the front" -- starting from far side of one temple in wavy combed-over bangs. Oh, and there was a great one of Uncle Roger with coarse, wild dark hair and some heavy duty cat-eye glasses.
I'm not sure when I'll have time again, but I'm looking forward to my next opportunity to dig through another box of momentos. I had to ration myself -- two boxes was enough for one day...and it gives me something to anticipate the next time I'm stuck in the house for a few days!

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