Please be kind to old folks

Under the Christmas tree remains an unopened gift all wrapped in blue paper with little angels and words written Joy and Hope. Inside is a gift for a special little boy. It sits there waiting and hoping to be claimed and opened. So many things in life are like that gift. Waiting for someone to claim them and open and enjoy their contents. Seek and you will find, ask and it will be opened to you, receive and you can take it with you. It is a gift. You don’t earn it, you don’t deserve it and you can’t buy it. It is a gift. Isn’t that amazing? You cannot do anything to get it, but simply take it in your hands open it up, look at it and then enjoy it. But the story doesn’t end there. What will you do with it? Will you lay it aside and think I will use it or enjoy it another day? Or will we pick it up hold it in your hands draw it to your chest and hold it with amazement and cherish it. Will we take care of it, protect it and put it places where it will not come to harm, or be pushed side and forgotten?

Old people are somewhat like a gift. They just want to be loved, cherished, and not put away on a shelf and forgotten. They mean well most of the time. They will call you by someone else’s name and they will say huh, or what did you say, until it drives you up the wall. They expect you to do things the way they were taught and that means shut the door softly, don’t walk in the house with mud on your feet , socks or shoes and whatever you do if the bed is made don’t you dare sit on it. Now when I was growing up the bed was always made and I knew it was a death sentence to get on that bed. I also knew if I dared go through my grandmother’s purse for any reason I might come back with a nub rather than a hand. Not really, it would be another of her famous scoldings.

We seldom went to granny’s house that she didn’t have a cake and most of the time chocolate, because we loved chocolate and she knew it. Once in a while we could get disappointed and a yellow one would be there in place of our favorite and she would say, “I have to cook for your granddaddy once in a while.”

My grandmother was a grouch but I always knew she loved me. She would frown and complain if we got things messy and I can assure you that she lived what she preached. I am sure there were other times, but I only remember one time when she put her arms around my shoulders and hugged me. I cherished that hug the rest of my life. When she passed away we inherited her old Coleman stove that she went camping with for years and had been put away for as many years. It was still in the original card board box with a piece of twine tied around it. I recall her slipping it under the back of the car to protect it while we camped. 

She had a glass B52 airplane that laid on a glass that was part of her dresser. Our granddaughter has that bedroom suit now. We knew we could look at it but best never touch it. When she let me hold it in my hands, it was a special time, and it was cherished as much as she cherished that little plane. She had two grandchildren and five great grandchildren and that airplane survived and remains intact to this very day. 

My grandfather was my hero. He took me to the movie in the middle of the school ground where it was called a free show and we sat on the ground on a quilt and walked home in the dark. I remember Frankenstein and I held on to his hand so tight he probably thought his would break. But in those warm soft fingers mine was safe. 

I remember leaving the school one day and as he began to pull on the road he asked, “is anyone coming your way?” I was pretty young and there was that steep hill and I didn’t see the car come flying over the hill and told him it was clear. We got sideswiped and I never remember him fussing at me. He always had a nickel or dime for candy and cokes ready when we went to the store. The only time he ever hit me with those soft safe fingers and I don’t know that to this day I could call it hit, was when he was sick and I kept pestering him, I have no idea what I was thinking or why I did it but I was standing and playing like I was slapping him. He told me several times to leave him alone or he would slap me. Now why would I believe that, he never had before. Finally he reached up and patted my cheek fast and light, but I got the point. I went away broken hearted and I cried like he had beaten me with a stick. I am sure he felt the same. 

These are just a few memories of old people. Whatever you do in this life, try to be patient, loving and kind to old people. Because I have a secret for you just in case you don’t know. Some day if the Lord is gracious it will be you that is that old person.

The Family of the Tiners

                                                                       Edie
                                                      Chapter 1 - Tiner Trivia memories
        As I approach  my 85th birthday I have fond memories of growing up in a home with five boys, three
girls, a father and mother, who were intent on rearing their children to be God fearing,  healthy, law abiding, and educated and who were firmly grounded in the philosophy that to spare the rod is to spoil the child.  An idle mind is the devils workshop.  they firmly believed the way to keep them out of meaness was to keep them busy.

It is at the insistence of my dear nephew Eddie Turner, Edna's oldest child, that I have decided to share some of these memories, and hope to instill in the minds of the younger generation something of the rich heritage that is theirs.  And to those who have known J.W. and Nora Tiner I hope to make them ever mindful of the sacrifices they made and the hard work they did that we might have a better life.

I have had a long life, but a rather uneventful one.  So there is not much to tell about myself.  I will be talking a lot about my parents and my siblings, and the trivia experienced in growing up in a large family.

Edrie wrote a book by talking to a recorder and then it was typed on pages to make a pretty interesting book that she left for the heritage of her family members.  I was privileged to have been the one to do this for her.

In the photo left to right top row  Letha Tiner, Helga Tiner, Houston Tiner, Helen Tiner, JW Tiner, Jeanette Davies (mother of Ethel Tiner), next row Edna Turner, Jan Tiner, Pauline Warren, Edrie Buchannan, Juanita Tiner Nora Tiner, E.L. Turner, Buck Buchannan, John H. Warren, Ethel Lee tiner, Gerald Tiner, Lewis Tiner, Joe Tiner, Eddie Turner, Jimmy Turner, John W. Warren, and Sherry Turner.

Emmett Tiner took the photo.

 

The greatest story ever told and said so eloquently in a fictional book.

“I broke myself of booze.”

He whistled, “Tough to get sober without help.” “Tough to get sober with help, “said T.  Prob’ly ought to quit smokin’, too, like Ray did a while back.  Man.  Quit drinkin’, quit smokin’, quit messin’ with women.  I might as well lay down an’ die.  Never expected t’ end up some ol’ dude out in th’ sticks, playin’ gin rummy an’ watchin’ th’ History Channel.”

T took a drag off the cigarette and exhaled.  “So tell me somethin’.  Goin’ back to bein’ broke, how come you ain’t broke?”

“I am broke.  What I’ve found in being a priest is that we’re all broken.  Fallen is perhaps a more scriptural concept, but usually what falls gets broken, so it’s all the same.

“The upside is, he promises we’ll be made whole in heaven. “Til then, we keep seeking him, keep trusting him, keep letting him have his way with us.  That’s our job.”

His job is to keep forgiving us and keep loving us.  That’s why, when he gives us something tough to do, he doesn’t turn his back and walk away.  He sticks with us, sees us through—only if we ask him to.  If we ask, he supplies everything we need to make our hundred-dollar car go like a scalded dog—to quote a friend of mine.”

I don’t know about religion.  It don’t make sense t’ me.”  

“Too complicated, that’s why.  I say, forget religion.  What it’s about, T, is the two of you, you and him.  Nothing more, nothing less.  A lot of people wonder why they were born.  I believe what scripture says, that he made us for his pleasure.  You might say he made us because he wants somebody around, somebody like you and somebody like me.  Kind of what you said a while ago.  Pretty amazing that he would want me around, I can tell you that.”

T leaned his head against the back of the chair.  “Too much for me, th’ whole deal of livin’.”

I’m with you on that.”  “Even with God in the picture, I still go through some hard stuff, and always will.  But he’s in it with me, which makes all the difference.

“The bottom line is, it’s totally, fatally about surrender.  That’s what it takes—throwing out your agenda and trusting his.  “I was in my forties before I really got it.  I was a priest before I got it.”

“One night, I came to the end of myself.  I hit a wall and I couldn’t go over it or under it or around it or through it.  Dead end.  I’d been reading a good deal, trying to figure it out.

“I thought a lot about something a young French mathematician wrote.  He said, “Let us weigh the gain and the loss, wagering that God is.  Consider these alternatives—if you win, you win all.  If you lose, you lose nothing.  Do not hesitate, then, to wager that he is. “

I’d been wagering a little here and a little there.  That night, I wagered everything.  I prayed a prayer that went something like this.  Thank you, God, for loving me, and for sending your son to die for my sins,  I sincerely repent of my sins and turn my entire life over to you.  Amen.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Home to Holly Springs. by Jan Karon pages 272 and 273

Today the day after Thanksgiving Day as I prepare dinner for our family tomorrow, listening to the CD and thinking of me and my life, it just seemed fitting to share the spiritual blessing I received once more from a fictional set of books that the Lord blessed me to have read and listened to a dozen times that lifts me up and sets my mind on things above and enables me to either forget or put in prospective the things here on earth.

How Do We Say Goodbye?

   I tore the sheet of paper towel from the roll and folded it in half to lay by the coffee pot and stirred my coffee with my spoon and laid it down on the paper towel just as I had seen her do for over forty years.  Her clothes hang in my closet neatly pressed with still the fragrance of her perfume on some to remind me they really aren’t mine but hers.  Our front porch and our home are decorated for Fall as she would have done.  She was my teacher as well as my friend.

   We visited with her husband and watched as he courageously goes about his daily tasks without her.  The loneliness never leaves his eyes even when he smiles and jokes with us.  The cancer has robbed him of his ability to walk and the failure of his kidneys, cause him to be swollen to the point his feet are tripled in size if not more.  They are red and swollen and from time to time he moves them and without a word one knows he is in pain.  However, our friend always has a smile and a clean joke to share each time we see him and he always asks the same question she did,” can I offer you something to drink?”  We expected him to meet the Lord first.  Yet it was her that could not stay alone without him.  She never spent a night alone in her life and I dare say few days. 

   She was beautiful inside and out, a woman of 5’6, thin and a smile that would light up any dark room.  She never saw herself as beautiful and perhaps that was the very thing that even made her more so.  She was kind and soft spoken.  She taught me the how the art of unselfishness.  She was always willing to do whatever we might want to do.  She provided the most beautiful clothes for her girls that she made with her own hands.  I remember seeing her French button holes that she made in lined suits.  There was nothing she could not sew.  She was so very talented.  She was faithful to the Lord and to be in his house for worship.  She visited the sick even when she didn’t feel well herself.  Although cooking was not her favorite thing in life there was always food at her table for guests.  She always cooked too much bacon for breakfast and would throw away what was left.  To me her only weakness in life and I know that isn’t true but it was the way I saw her.  She was very sensitive and how in the world she and I were best friends amazes me, because I have the sensitivity of a cow in a flower bed too often.

   She weathered many storms in life and shed many tears, but kept her eyes focused on the Lord.  She questioned Him and taught me that was alright because in the end she always bowed to His sovereignty.  She didn’t like to read but she would read her bible. 

   She loved to play games and entertained people in her home often to play hand and foot (a card game), or dominoes.  I never entered her home that she did not first offer us something to drink before we could even sit down.

   She was scared of everything.  One night we were camping and the men had gone off fishing on foot.  We walked to the end of the sandy road and peered into the darkness looking for a flash light to shine in our direction.  However, no light shown but a rustling in the brush did.  I stood there and in my ears came the sound of four number nine tennis shoes retreating in haste the other direction leaving me alone in the lane.  She and June ran for all they were worth the other way back to camp. 

   She and I have been through so many losses together but never did I imagine I would lose her this soon.  The first major loss was her mastectomy caused by cancer.  Before the diagnosis came we were at the lake on vacation awaiting the final word when we returned home.  I have no idea how or really why other than the obvious, but I read the entire book of Job out loud to her sitting in the camper.  After her surgery I was with her in her home and recall sitting on the floor beside her chair as she cried and I could say nothing but sat there and cried with her.  I helped her make a bathing suit that she could wear.  I was going through old photos and did not realize I had that photo of her in the bathing suit we made.  She never forgot these things and always told me that it helped her that I just sat and cried with her.  That was truly an act the Holy Spirit totally did for her through me because never in my life am I at a loss for words as all who know me are fully aware.

   She had lost her little girl Jacque in death, by cancer of her liver, when she was only two.  I had never lost anyone close to me at this time and it was always something I could not totally feel but had such sympathy for her.  God had given her two precious girls and they were the center of her life.  When we lost Robin at the age 26 I then experienced the pain she had born.

   We gave up our mothers, my grandparents, our best friend June and later our other best friend Joy.  Joy had cancer and suffered on and off for nearly four years.  I know she never left her side and I was 199 miles away so she was there for me as well as herself.  We always kept close contact by phone and we visited all we could.   We were now the three musketeers.  Then Joy died and we grieved together for her and John.  It hurt and it was a great loss but we had watched her suffering and somehow that made it easier to bear.

She was taking care of Jimmy and doing things that only God could help her do as in putting that wheel chair up and out of the van.  She helped him up and down out of chairs and in and out of bed.  She was weakened from the muscles removed in surgery and a slender woman that had not had heavy duties before such as this.  She was almost 74 years old and she was doing the work that would have tired her at 40.  Yet she continued on.  She prepared meals for others and visited others even in the circumstances they were in and he depended totally on her.  He did all he could possibly do and together they braved this new storm in their lives together and mostly alone it seemed.

   We were going through our own storm of life.  My back had finally taken me down and for almost three months I was down literally on the bed.  We drove back and forth to see them as Jimmy had one crisis after the other or she had some heart problems that were critical.  In the end I was laying in the back of the Rav 4 in order to go because I could not bear to sit. 

   One morning we got the call that she was on her way by ambulance to the hospital.  I had spoken to her the day before and she was so tired.  She had told me that she was going to need  help that she could no longer handle it alone.  She sounded so tired and so defeated.  My heart broke for them both.

She never knew me again although I did go to be with her.  She was gone and her last words were I am so tired. The most difficult thing was being unable to go to her funeral.  I was waiting for the surgeon to do my surgery and they were having her funeral at the same moment.

   How do we say goodbye when death comes so quickly and we have no warning?  How do we stop the daily mourning that takes place in our hearts?  Why is it so difficult to turn loose of one and yet even though we grieve, we did survive the loss of the other.  I have only experienced two sudden losses and one was my child and the other one of the three of my best friends.  I cannot understand the daily struggles with my personal loss of Betty.  I understood when it was my child.  It was actually several years before the pain subsided to what I esteem as bearable.  However, why I want to cry every day at some point or other over my friend I do not understand.  God was merciful to take her first and yet I watch as her husband goes on and struggles with his illness and expect any day we will suffer loss of him too.  Eddie said maybe it was because we know we are next, but that is not it for me.  I just was not ready to say goodbye. Going to the time of family and friends gathering together the night before just was not good enough, or maybe a better word final enough. 

   I have been so very blessed to have had three best friends that our friendships lasted through thirty six years of 199 miles separating us or their death finally separating us.  And to think that our friendships were only a little over forty years, yet even with the distance between us, we stayed closer than sisters for thirty six years.  June was my best friend for over 50 years and truly more than a friend, she was my mother, my sister and my best friend.  She has been gone for nineteen years.  And now Leonard is with her and the Lord since August 17, 2012.

   Truly I have been blessed.  Eddie and I have been blessed.  Yet once more I ask the question, “How do I say goodbye?”  I am in hopes that this was my way of finally letting go and saying goodbye to Betty, Joy, June and Leonard because thank you Lord, before long I will once again say hello and I hope Betty will say to me, “can I get you something to drink?”

There is Joy in the morning

This morning I left the doctors office to head for the pharmacy to pick up a prescription and then on to the grocery store.  Feeling lousy and standing in line to check out I stood watching people come and leave.  As I watched a man caught my eye because I recognized him.  He reminded me of another man I knew and I wondered if I had not heard where somewhere down the line they were actually related.  As I pondered this thought his wife came up and he took her arm.

I wanted to come home and draw a picture of what I saw, but my earlier attempt at drawing was really not well and I recall the Psalmist could draw a picture with words so beautifully in my lesson this morning (Psalm 139:1-10).  So I decided to write my story as it happened and draw a word picture as it appeared in my mind.

The man stood tall and straight with a strength still remaining in his face of a time long ago passed.  The woman was whose hair was not totally gray although not all one shade and was cut short over the ears.  She slightly bent over her cane and took his arm as they slowly left the store followed by the clerk with their basket of groceries.  I don't really recall the clerk and basket, however I presume since they carried nothing in their arms that this was the case.  I could see nothing but the couple or get past the rush of emotion that grabbed my heart and threatened to cause tears to fall from my eyes.  You see, I remember this lady when she walked with her body straight as an arrow like a willow tree that the wind could blow back and forth to only once again stand tall. She was my teacher many years ago.  She taught me the beauty of life through painting and at the same time showed me the glory of the Lord in small glimpses of herself and her paintings.  She was full of life and her smile drew us in and caused us to want to take that paint brush and produce what we could not because she truly had the hand of the master.  Yet she would give us encouragement and hope and always tell us we could do as well even though she seemed to see hers as not the best either.

As they departed and left the store another thought quickly entered my mind.  "Robin!"  look what you missed by being taken so young.  Look what we watch and see.  And I asked myself the question, "why did we grieve so when you left?  I thought of all the things she missed by having the privilege of going home early.  She was prepared.  And for one small second I had a pity party and began to remember what she had missed and also wondered what those who have known me all my life now see?  I thought I want to get out of here while I still stand straight and tall which was foolish as well as prideful.  None of us should want to get out of here before the Lord is ready for us because we might miss the greatest opportunity of all to do something that would honor him as he so richly deserved to be honored.

I came home my mind filled with words that I wanted to get written down but a picture I wanted to draw to go with my story.  My sleepy husband awaken from his usual noon nap smiled and asked me what the doctor said and from there I began to empty my heart to him about my story.

As I described the scene and told the story another thought entered my head.  Carol once said how can you sit and watch the death of a leaf and call it beautiful.  She said it in fun but the real thought began to pour out like the tears that now filled and tumbled from my eyes as I related to my husband these thoughts.  "We think it is sad to watch the bodies grow old and die, but to our Christ it is beautiful.  He sees all the beauty of the colors and the different shapes and gladly brings them into his presence, because He knows they will die and then once again come alive to be all shades of green and new growth.  A born again leaf, Wow what an image!  How the concept changed my heart of sorrow to one of Joy.

I hope when my children and friends watch me as I crumble and fall in age and my body begins to decay that they will see a tree covered in beautiful shades of yellow, green, red and browns with all colors in between; they will know it is just a few seconds in time and I will go home to be born once more with all the youth, vitality and vigor I ever experienced as a child and more.  I will be with my Savior and run through heaven and when I bend on my knees to worship him my body will allow it, when I see His face I will see it clearly without the curse of glasses, when I place my hand in his I will feel it and the rapture will be untold in my heart.  He will see it, hear it, feel it, and I will know He does.

And Robin, from now on mama will only see a beautiful tree with all shades of green that was reborn in the presence of God.  And I will remember the tree that the leaves died so early bore beautiful leaves of red, greens, yellows and browns and what a beautiful memory left behind for all of those you loved.

Today a New Beginning of an old Life

Oh! The difference in the conviction of the Holy Spirit rather than the conviction of one’s conscience; it is profound!

   This morning I am not asking myself what did life make our children believe by those others around them, rather I am asking myself how did I present God to my children with my belief system?   I am not asking what did I do or what could I have done differently to influence our children?  Rather I am asking myself what I believed while I was given the responsibility and privilege of rearing three precious little souls.  Even more so, what do I believe today?

   Do I believe God or do I just think I do?  Yes, I believe He exists, yes I believe he is all knowing, all powerful and ever present.  I believe he in his mercy called to me, convicted me of my lost condition, and marvelously, wonderfully saved my soul and that I will live with him in eternity.  That I can nail down and hold on until I take my last breath.  The things that convict me are do I believe in prayer?  Do I really believe or do I put a clause in there, a loop hole, “if it is His will.” Do I teach my grandchildren and present by my life to my children and those around me a hope so, maybe so prayer life.  Most importantly do I believe in a hope so, maybe so life?  Did God really mean it when he said in Jeremiah 29:11-13?

   ¹¹ For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the LORD, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end. ¹² Then shall ye call upon me, and ye shall go and pray unto me, and I will hearken unto you. ¹³ And ye shall seek me, and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your heart.

  When I pray for someone that is sick, do I believe God for their healing?  Do I hope He will heal?  Why can I not believe He will heal and then let the remainder belong to God and leave it with Him?  Why do I bother to pray?  Why not just say, “God here is the prayer list, Do your will.”  Did God simply put Matthew 7:7-11 in scripture to trick us?

   ⁷ Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: ⁸ For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened. ⁹ Or what man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a stone? ¹⁰ Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent? ¹¹ If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?

   I wonder if it is just possible the real reason my prayer life stinks, my belief system stinks, my living for God each day stinks, my victory in overcoming self, stinks;  just might be because my belief system stinks?  What fragrance enters the nostrils of God when I pray?  In one of the studies my mind and heart were impressed with something pertaining to fragrance, and that was when we leave a room that we leave a sweet smelling fragrance reaching up to the Father and to those who come in behind us.  For that reason, I always clean a motel room and leave it in order so that the maids will know there was someone who would show them respect and leave a sweet fragrance rather than disorder and a bad odor of uncleanliness  behind.  That may seem an honorable thing but today I am asking what fragrance or order, what belief system am I leaving behind for all to smell and see?

   What I lack and have always lacked in life has certainly not been my “WANT TO.”  I want to serve God, I want to be a difference in this world for God, I want to do great and marvelous things for God, I want to please God.  My want to is in full gear, it is that small tiny word that in reality is the biggest word in all of God’s word, “FAITH. “

   Today is the first day of the rest of my life.  As in “Anne of Green Gables, “ it is a new slate with no mistakes on it.  I cannot fix yesterday, not even this morning but I can reach up to God with my hands, with my whole heart, and ask, “God help thou my unbelief.”  I can pray and begin this very moment to do all in my power to believe in the scriptures, 2 Timothy 1:7-9

   ⁷ For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind. ⁸ Be not thou therefore ashamed of the testimony of our Lord, nor of me his prisoner: but be thou partaker of the afflictions of the gospel according to the power of God; ⁹ Who hath saved us, and called us with an holy calling, not according to our works, but according to his own purpose and grace, which was given us in Christ Jesus before the world began,

   Thank you Lord for mercies that are fresh and new every morning.  Lamentations 3:19-26

¹⁹Remembering mine affliction and my misery, the wormwood and the gall. ²⁰ My soul hath them still in remembrance, and is humbled in me. ²¹ This I recall to my mind, therefore have I hope. ²² It is of the LORD’S mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. ²³ They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness. ²⁴ The LORD is my portion, saith my soul; therefore will I hope in him. ²⁵ The LORD is good unto them that wait for him, to the soul that seeketh him. ²⁶ It is good that a man should both hope and quietly wait for the salvation of the LORD.

The Anniversary

50TH WEDDING ANNIVERSARY - AUGUST 25, 2012 - SILVERTON, COLORADO

 

Most couples that we know have a party either given by their children or a project given by both the couple as well as their children.  Eddie and I did not want the status quo, therefore we planned a trip to ride the trails in Silverton, Colorado.  What more could want to clap their hands and sing sweet songs of happiness than trees rustling in the wind, mountains reaching to the sky, or the sound of the water rippling along the cliffs and banks of the river. God's creation was in any direction one chose to look.  There were no cards of congratulations, no frills only the two of us together that knew the road that brought us this far and the driver that guided us along that road.  We give unconditional praise to the Lord for all we have, all we are, where we have been and where he has brought us from.  He alone deserves the credit and praise that on this day we stood together in a loving embrace thanking him for his mercy and grace that we were here.

Sadness comes over me when I think that the ones we would have shared our joy would not have been able to come had we celebrated in a party at home.  You see half of them are already home with the Lord.  One left the day we set out on our journey to Silverton.  I hope our children will not feel cheated, but when they reach their special day then I want the same for them.  Just to be together where you both want to be to remember where you began. It may seem selfish but it was my gift to my husband who never wants to be in the lime light anywhere.

We had our friends the Flannigns to ride the trails with and share the joy of the beauty of Silverton.  They went home and left us on our special day and we explored the river, climbed the mountain and crossed the creek to get there.  Eddie carved our names and the date of our wedding on a tree among some other names previously carved.  We attempted to dance in the back of our horse trailer turned into camper to the strands of "May I have this dance for the rest of my life," by Anne Murray.  It is our song.  Although neither of us can dance we tried just because I had mentioned one time earlier in the year that I wanted to have an anniversary dance just the two of us.  Awkward as it was it will always be a special memory in my life because Eddie chose to make the memory for me.  I thought he was reading his bible on his computer until I heard the music.  

It was a special memory and I hope we will be able to share many more.  Next year maybe we will let the kids come celebrate with us.....