Margaret Philbrick

Author. Gardener. Teacher. Planting seeds in hearts.

Author. Gardener. Teacher.

Planting seeds in hearts.
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I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God made it grow.   1 Corinthians 3:6
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Letters to My Mother During Covid19

May 8, 2020 by Margaret Philbrick Leave a Comment

Dear Mom,

I am so proud of you! It’s been a week since the Coronavirus came to your wing of the building and you are hanging in there. The healthcare workers are doing everything they can to get you over this little set-back you’re experiencing. Thank them today! Caleb came by and dropped off Pedialyte so you can get more electrolytes in your system. Please drink lots of that fluid today because you need it and because he walked all the way to Target to get it and then walked over to your place to drop it off. I’ll bet you don’t know that when we drop things off for you they need to sit in a bin for 24 hours to make sure all possible germs die off before they come to you. When we leave a note to direct the package (or hopefully flowers:) we take a pen from the clean pen zip-loc bag to write with and then we put the used pen in the used zip-loc bag when we’re done. So many steps taken to keep you all healthy!

The big news today is that Uncle Jay and Caleb are coming to visit you through the window. Yes, indeed your brother who has never darkened the door of your retirement community is going to do so today. I will email Jennifer to let her know they are coming so that someone can unlock the gate and then they will be able to enter the courtyard and see you and talk to you through the window, so make sure and brush your hair and put on some lipstick for their visit. Mercy can help you with this. Also, just a reminder that no one can come in to see you or see anyone in the building because of the virus. This keeps the virus from spreading further.

I’ve let Reverend Meyer know that you aren’t feeling tip-top and he’s praying for you. So many people are praying for you to get through this little rough patch. It sounds like your worst problem right now is weakness so any food you can get in that power lifter body of yours is helpful, anything — even chocolate pudding! Do you remember how we used to beg you to make us that JELLO dessert called “1-2-3” when we were little? Those three layers of regular, fluffy and whipped jello on top? Lime was my favorite! So eat your Jello today, gelatin is good for strength. Dad drinks Knox gelatin mixed in a glass of water every morning when he takes his vitamins. Dad is praying for you too. If you used Facebook on the computer you could see all the messages people have left who are praying for you. 

In that spirit, here’s a prayer for you today from the Book of Common Prayer:

Heavenly Father, giver of life and health: Comfort and relieve thy sick servant Sarah and give thy power of healing to those who minister to her needs today, that mother for whom our prayers are offered may be strengthened in her weakness and have confidence in thy loving care; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

I’ve been working on a project to give to Nink for his college graduation. Can you believe our firery, little drummer boy is graduating from college? The ceremony is supposed to be this month, but they’ve postponed it until August 7th. That is how much time we have to get you in traveling shape to head down to Nashville, two months! So drink your Pedialyte and eat your soft, yummy food today, rest well and then you’ll be coming with us to Nashville, you can see Aunt Myrna too! 

We love you so much Mama. Enjoy your visit with those two golfers today. Maybe Uncle Jay is going to play golf after he visits you, but it might be a bit chilly for that today. 

You are a McGreevy with Irish blood churning in your veins to help you keep fighting. xoxoxoxoxoxoxo!

Margaret

Jessie’s graduation from Butler University, 2017

Filed Under: Family, Hope, Love Tagged With: Christ Church Oak Brook, hatingcovid19, isolated senior, memory care in Covid19

A Mother’s Day Letter to our Children (on the eve of losing their childhood home)

May 8, 2019 by Margaret Philbrick Leave a Comment

Dear kids,

Sorry, but we are packing boxes and probably annoying you with photos of random pieces of art accompanied by, “Do you want this?” May 24th is coming and then we’ll stop.

We bought our little french cottage in February of 1991 and when we took your great-grandmother to see it she said, “Oh what a lovely little bungalow.” We thought it was a mansion and pretended we weren’t insulted. Every room except our bedroom (painted a disgusting shade of dark brown) was light blue so we came out to the suburbs on the weekends for two months, ate Dominoe’s pizza on the patio and fixed it up. Our first Valentine’s Day dinner was spent in an empty new house, eating asparagus pasta salad by candlelight on the floor. We tried to make a fire, but didn’t know how to open the flue. We smoked out the interior and ended up wrapping ourselves in a quilt after opening every door and window to air out. Of course, we drank champagne, but it was cheap champagne, Freixenet, which is actually a Cava.

Your dad and I count it an unbelievable blessing that we raised you on this humble and beautiful corner in a God-fearing town that hasn’t changed much. We still have the same neighbors who adore you after 28 years and ask us about you each time we cross through their Liberty Drive gate. Your “kids club” in the backyard still has the red, white and blue picnic chairs inside the center of that hollowed out trinity of trees. And now it’s time for you to make your own homes without the safety net of this faithful corner. I know a permanent displacement is hard, I still drive and walk by my house on the Fox River where I grew up at least once or twice a year. So, as you grow into life without your pastoral anchor, here’s some intangible truths that you’ve learned for safe keeping in your hearts:

Plant a garden – Two decades of spring have passed with seeds sprouting on windowsills which we hardened off and ultimately planted in your “kids garden.” Getting your hands dirty is a virtue, watching the earth embed into the cracks of your index finger so deeply that you can’t wash it out means that hard work should yield a harvest, but some things will forever be beyond your control. Don’t let those unexpected forces get you down, devilish squirrels and August storms are a part of life and the sun comes out again, a new day is made and fall Kale tastes as good a spring sugar snap peas. 

Dream big, live small – Live where you can hear the floors creak, where you know when each other gets up, goes to bed, flushes the toilet, creeps downstairs in the middle of the night for a glass of water or microwave popcorn. Intimate living where the rhythm of life is shared in the sacredness of the everyday equals closeness. We know Jessie spent nights up late organizing her closet and dancing pique turns across the wood floor, so we called her the “night-stalker.” We know Nathaniel couldn’t stay up long past dinner and always went downstairs to play drums when the dinner table “conversation” became too heated and Caleb constantly stayed awake looking at his globe late into the night wondering, “Where is Afghanistan?” or, “When will I climb Mount Everest?” All of you grew up empowered by your dreams and we shared those dreams close in, with all their sorrows and joys and we will keep doing that even when this home belongs to another family.

Invite others to inhabit your world, share –  Probably more than ten people lived in our home and basement: grad students, our foster daughter, aimless college grads wondering what to do with their lives, those who fell on hard times. With one bathroom upstairs this wasn’t always easy. You sacrificed your precious teenage shower time and if someone who didn’t know better flushed the downstairs toilet during your shower, screams echoed through the walls because somehow flushing the cold water meant you lost the hot, (why? I never figured this out.) You grew up in a family of extroverts so maybe that made sharing our small space easier, but now you all LOVE people. I see a burning compassion in your eyes for the person on the street with nothing. I remember recently eating lunch in an outdoor cafe on Michigan Avenue and a homeless man approached our table, leaned over the canvas barricade and asked one of you for money. You reached into your pocket and gave him everything you had, $20.00, without blinking an eye. Keep living and loving with that kind of fearless abandon and say “yes” to pets. My old friend Ed Homan from the Danada horse barn always said, “You can tell how a man is gonna treat his wife by how he takes care of his animals.” Based upon how your dad has treated our animals, that is true.

Be faithful and find space to take deep breaths – Life gets hard, tax bills increase, pneumonia threatens our Nutcracker ballet performances, cramps shut down our State Cross County meet winning aspirations, flu attempts to overtake our final season in the high school musical pit orchestra, (another evening wrapped up in blankets and gutting it out:), but God is faithful. Keep trusting in Him and his boundless love. You are never alone. His plan for your earthly home may change, but his eternal definition will always stay the same; “Jesus answered him, ‘If a man loves me, he will keep my word. My Father will love him, and we will come to him, and make our home with him.’”John 14:23. Wherever you live, find the space that is your go-to for recharge. A forest preserve, a river, a prairie view from a bridge, a tall sand dune— nothing fancy, but a vista that’s real, set apart, and imprinted on your mind. Breathe in this place and know that home resides there as well.

You are grown up and the world desperately needs your gifts, your light, your spark. No longer do you exist on “blue box” mac-n-cheese. Today, you are literally calling me on the phone asking how to cook ratatouille for a gathering of ten, (say —what?) We’ll keep making home together, but now you’re equipped with everything needed to create your own. Store up in your hearts what you’ve learned on our cozy corner and if you don’t, well, count on me to write it down for you:)

Peace and always, love…

Mom

Nathaniel’s fifth grade Mother’s Day present, a tissue paper covered bottle vase.

p.s. While typing this, our neighbor kids are practicing their marching band competition routine in Nick’s backyard to the BLASTING strains of “God Bless America.” Despite all the swirling, twittering fury that is America today, kids still play baseball in the street and parents do tuck their kids into bed at night. Never lose hope, because this country is your home too.  

Filed Under: Gardening, Gratitude, Home, Hope, Seasons Tagged With: growing up, leaving home, love letter, mother's day, moving

Choosing Hope

October 30, 2018 by Margaret Philbrick Leave a Comment

The commuter train traveled the usual route on schedule October 18th, until the young man with the devastating smile decided to step in front of it. The whirring of helicopters overhead usually tips us off that it’s happened again. Another person chose to end their life by stepping into the path of an oncoming train. But, this time, this young man grew up in Wheaton and graduated from the same high school class as our oldest son. Why did he do it? 

A week later a memorial continues to grow at the busy intersection. I walked our dog past it yesterday afternoon and took time to study the notes scrawled on the fence in silver and gold Sharpie ink. What can someone say or do in response to such a choice? He had a beautiful girlfriend, a loving family and a three year old son. Laying a bunch of grocery store roses or a CD of his favorite music is a kind gesture, but we all know it’s too late to make a difference.

“Research by Northwestern University professor Ian Savage found that 47 percent of railroad-pedestrian fatalities in the Chicago area were apparent suicides, versus 30 percent nationally. One reason, Savage explained, is simply because the Chicago area has a greater prevalence of tracks and trains. The city is the largest rail hub in North America and is served by all six of the major Class I freight railroads, as well as by Amtrak passenger trains and Metra, one of the nation’s busiest commuter rail networks.” (Chicago Transportation Journal, 2016)

Our home is two blocks from the train tracks so we are painfully aware of this problem. Metra recently launched a suicide prevention effort in keeping with those of other rail dependent cities. Suicide hotlines are posted at stations and personnel are trained in what to look for and what to do if someone is spotted exhibiting the about to jump signs. But this wasn’t enough to save the 25 year old father of the three year old boy. 

Last night, I grabbed a scented candle and drove to the sight to light it and say a prayer for his family. As my husband and I climbed out of the car a woman wrapped in a fleece blanket, face streaked with tears asked us, “Did you know him?” We explained that our son did. She said she was “his girlfriend and the mother of his child” and “was hoping someone would come.” This simple statement tells so much. “Hoping someone would come.” I asked why he did it and she said, “depression and drugs. He wanted help and and tried to get it, but it was hard for him to accept it.” We wrapped our arms around this broken-hearted woman and prayed for her, staring into the frosty blackness illuminated by ground level candlelight. She told us that the Sharpie markers were given to her by the Metra train conductor who encouraged her to make them available so people could write messages. She tried to take their little son to the memorial site, but he didn’t understand.

Waking up in America these days can feel overwhelming to anyone. All the drugs, the political vitriol, the hate bombs, synagogue and school assault rifle slaughters. But the answer is still the same. Be reckless in loving someone today. Stand with them. Make yourself available. Pray and hope, always hope that our little efforts will be multiplied by Him who is “able to do immeasurably more than we can ever ask or imagine.” Ephesians 3:20

There is always hope.

 

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Filed Under: Hope, Inspiration, Suicide

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