It's A Great Day, Foxy Brown!

After six days in the Big City, I'm enjoying the peace and solitude of a relaxing day at home. Foxy's taking a nap on the couch, and Grey Eagle is on my lap--as he's been most of the time since I returned.

The days away were filled with lots of family moments. Farida, Hunter and I drove down on Monday. Jason flew in on Wednesday.

The bad news:  Although we were in SoCal for several days, Nasreen had to work quite a bit of it. She did, however, get off early on Christmas Eve. We would like to have had more opportunities to visit with her but were blessed with what we had.

The good news:  This was the first Christmas in Hunter's experience where he really "got" the idea. He and Nasreen spent Christmas Eve making chocolate chip cookies for Santa. They left out a plate and a glass of milk for the Big Guy and carrots for the reindeer. Amazingly enough, all of them were gone the next morning, with the exception of a few carrot "nubs." And the Christmas tree was surrounded with gaily-wrapped presents. Hunter was amazed . . . and thrilled.

I believe Hunter now has every piece of GeoTrax equipment known to man, as well as a new wardrobe, which he needed. He's a growing boy. And that was just the first celebration. There was yet another later that afternoon with Hunter's Grams, O'Bob, O'Dad and his uncles Richard, Andy and Reagan. Hunter was in heaven because a number of his young cousins were there, too, and they allowed him to play with them. He had a ball . . . and scored a ton more presents.

For me probably the most gratifying and surprising moment of Christmas morning was Farida's reaction when she opened her present:  an autographed copy of Ree Drummond's Pioneerwoman cookbook,The Pioneer Woman Cooks: Recipes from an Accidental Country Girl.

I knew she wanted it; I just hadn't realized how much. It had been incredibly difficult to keep my big mouth shut since Nasreen and I had attended Ree's book signing at the Torrance Border's on November 22. Farida is an avid reader of Pioneerwoman's blog, she knew about the signing, and she knew *I* would be in the Los Angeles area, whereas she couldn't come down for several days yet. I was amazed that she never asked me about it.

I have to give Nasreen a lot of credit for accompanying me to the book signing. She agreed to drive because I oppose driving in the LA basin except in cases of dire need. She hung around the entire four or five hours we were there and never complained. She had NO IDEA why all these people (and there were a few men in the crowd) would stand in line for such a long time just to get a cookbook signed. She didn't understand who Charlie and Marlboro Man and the punks are and why all these folks would care. The efforts were vindicated, however, when she saw her sister's face as she pulled the book out of the bag.

Farida and Jason had received their Christmas (and birthday and anniversary) presents from Nasreen at the time of Jason's birthday celebration in November. They returned the favor when they helped her buy a blu-ray DVD and surround-sound theatre system. Jason hooked it up for her, and she was in heaven, too.

As for me, the girls got me a luscious pair of slippers and a 50 mm 2.8 f macro lens for my camera. Whooooohooooo!! I've spent a lot of last night and today reading up on macro photography tips. I have a lot to learn, but what fun I'll have.

The last gift I received was one that I would have preferred to avoid. Once again Hunter has bestowed on me the gift that keeps on giving . . . a stuffed-up head and a runny nose. 

He is such a GIVER!

Above all else, above all the tangible, hold-in-your-hand gifts, the greatest treasure was the time we got to spend together both on the drives back and forth and the days spent at the Santa Ana house and at Reagan and Courtenay's. Hopefully it's only one of many more holidays to come that we'll have the opportunity to share.

A Glorious Sendoff

If ever anyone deserved—and received—a glorious sendoff, it was Louise (Grammy) Wiberg. I was privileged to be present at her memorial and in the presence of her family last weekend.

I wish I'd had more time to get to know Grammy. At 89 she left us much too soon. She had a gentle yet strong persona that enveloped all around her.

She headed a large and loving family. When my daughter, Farida, married Louise's grandson, Jason, Louise drew the rest of the Hussain family into the extended Wiberg/Wilks clan. I spent a number of Thanksgivings and Christmases with her and her husband, Harold (O'Dad). To Louise and Harold, we were never strangers. We felt completely welcomed—and loved. We were as much family as Harold and Louise's own children, Spike, Hal and Tom, and their children.

Even though Louise and Harold embraced us wholeheartedly, I'm sad I didn't get to know Grammy better. After all, I thought we had many more holidays with her. When it suddenly became clear that those years were not in the cards, it was much too late. For the memorial, Louise's son, Tom, composed a letter shared with those gathered in the sanctuary. In it, he wrote that there were only eleven days between her diagnosis and her passing. At that statement those in attendance gasped; none of us realized she'd gone so quickly.

That was not the only surprise revealed during the service. A young man—now probably in his forties—spoke eloquently about his connection with Louise. He explained how she'd taken him in when he was only 17, cared for him, counseled him, supported him, gave him employment and led him to the Lord. The surprise was not that she had done so, but that none of her grandsons had ever heard the story. She and Harold lived what they believed, but they felt no need to brag, or even talk, about their actions.

Many others came to pay their respects to Louise, so many that the church found it necessary to move the after-service reception from the smaller room originally assigned to the fellowship hall to accommodate us all. Louise was loved, and she will be remembered.

In the company of my two daughters, my son-in-law, Jason, and my grandson, I spent the day before Grammy's memorial at Spike and Bob's home. What might have become a time of tears and sorrow became an amazing example of joy and remembrance. Yes, several times tears sprang to our eyes, but there was far more laughter as the grandsons and great-grandsons splashed on the slip'n'slide.

I felt particularly blessed to spend time in conversation with O'Dad, during which he told me stories of his life with Louise and shared with me memories of the more than two years they lived in Mexico City and Querétaro, two places dear to my heart. I also found out that he'd worked for the same company as my mother, although, years apart, their paths couldn't have crossed. As we sat, a flocks of hummingbirds swooped out of pepper trees behind the house to swarm the feeders above our heads.

The family that gathered around the table that evening was bound by love as much as by blood. Four generations shared the love and light of the woman who had been wife, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, great-aunt and friend to all of us.

Read Louise Wiberg's Obituary in the Orange County Register.