Tag Archives: Janette Peterson

Honoring her December birthday

Well, it’s December 6th. Another December date that I remember a loved one on their birthday. I have so many friends and family with birthdays in December. This morning though, I remember my Aunt Janette. Below, I have shared a poem that I wrote in honor of my aunt. She was a beautiful person, inside and out. I was fortunate enough to have a relationship with her right from the time I was born. Last night when I looked at my calendar, and I let the date register with me, I stopped and I thought about my wonderful aunt. She is still very much missed and I cannot wait to see her again, one day, in heaven. This morning, I remember her, and I share this poem I wrote a few years ago.

I wrote this poem the morning after my Aunt Janette went to see our Lord. I woke up on Saturday morning and had these words in my mind, waiting to be written. So I sat and I wrote them.

Then on Thursday of this week, I decided to see if I could find the pictures we took at Uncle Lloyd and Aunt Janette’s farm last July. I opened the folder on my computer and I burst in to tears. Because, there she was, my beautiful Aunt Janette, right in front of me. Furthermore, there were pictures of her holding the child’s hand, pictures of her lifting the frail to new heights, and pictures of her happy, healthy, and completely at ease in her element. So I decided to pull a few pictures and put them into a post here including the poem. I took some of these pictures and my daughter Erin took some too.

Where’s that woman who used to embody farm?
She would work and still pull off that striking charm
 
There’s an empty spot in the garden over there
 A place vacated by the mother with golden hair
Aunt Janette leads Jacqueline up to see the calves.

Aunt Janette leads Jacqueline up to see the calves.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Can I walk for a while where she would tread?
O’er the grounds many visitors she had led
 
 
That child’s hand isn’t held walking next to us
It would’ve been by the girl who grew up in Texas
This is how I remember my Aunt Janette. Strong enough to walk alone, but always looking to see who else might benefit from a little help.

This is how I remember my Aunt Janette. Strong enough to walk alone, but always looking to see who else might benefit from a little help.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
May I enter her home and just sit for a while?
I can smell the bread and still see the smile
 
The room is full but something’s out-of-place
There’s a smile missing, absent, a friendly face
With a little boost from Aunt Janette, the frail could fly.

With a little boost from Aunt Janette, the frail could fly.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Can I say a little something to remember her by?
How she’d reach for the frail and let them fly
 
There are stories shared, each must be told
Recalling the wife that never did look old
Always happy to see us, my Aunt Janette, and my two daughters, Jacqueline and Erin. 7-25-2012.

Always happy to see us, my Aunt Janette, and my two daughters, Jacqueline and Erin. 7-25-2012.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Is it just me or is there happiness found here?
“…there am I in the midst…”; He is near
 
Gathered there is strength, and even more love
Missing here, we need only smile and look above

My Aunt Janette Remembered

I find myself staring into the beautiful spaces that God created and letting my mind wander over the hills, through the valleys, and along the streams. In my mind all of it is wild, all of it is untouched, and all of it is revered by mankind. From the path my mind wanders along, I see the people who now walk the streets of gold, the ones we loved here on earth. I long to sit and visit with them again. I long to hear the familiar laughter that each of them often contributed to our family gatherings. I ache to look into the eyes of those heroes who have gone before me. In those eyes, there are windows to all-time, the windows dressed in love are unmistakable. The eyes invite you in to sit and stay for awhile, they exude love, and portray a confidence that all will be just fine, for where we are gathered, He is there also. Try looking into the eyes of a loved one, maybe an older one, but one who has assured their eternal salvation by giving their life to Christ, and tell me you don’t see all I have described here, and more.

I wrote this piece two years ago, and this morning, I honor my aunt’s life by posting the original words I wrote.

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Aside

I write sometimes too much, other times not quite enough Getting the time, or room in peace to work can be tough   Before I wrote my most viewed piece, Destination Homestead There was a man who taught me to use an … Continue reading

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Connect

Photography 101

This is one of my favorite photos ever posted to 1inawesomewonder.

My late Aunt Janette had a very special ability to connect with others. This picture, to me, sums that up. I miss her and the connection I had with her.

Connect

Connect

Image

Hand Held

Honestly, I planned to be asleep by now. Before I went upstairs to turn in for the night, I looked back. I looked back on some poems I had written over the last year. These poems I’ve tried to neatly collect electronically within my blog. Some include pictures that I’ve tied to the words. Then I came across this one and everything stopped. The TV showing hockey highlights in the background seemed suddenly useless. The hour now equally unimportant. I love the picture. But perhaps, even as wordy as I can get, I might not ever find the room, the length, or even the words worthy of the flood of thought and memory that resonates within me when I see this picture. If ever there was a place in my heart that another ever held, my Aunt Janette still occupies a special space there. If you care to gain further understanding, look under the Tributes section of this blog and look for Aunt Janette. I’ll be here enjoying the memories associated with this picture for a while. Wishing again to be hand held.

In good hands

My Aunt Janette – The Poem

I wrote this poem the morning after my Aunt Janette went to see our Lord. I woke up on Saturday morning and had these words in my mind, waiting to be written. So I sat and I wrote them.

Then on Thursday of this week, I decided to see if I could find the pictures we took at Uncle Lloyd and Aunt Janette’s farm last July. I opened the folder on my computer and I burst in to tears. Because, there she was, my beautiful Aunt Janette, right in front of me. Furthermore, there were pictures of her holding the child’s hand, pictures of her lifting the frail to new heights, and pictures of her happy, healthy, and completely at ease in her element. So I decided to pull a few pictures and put them into a post here including the poem. I took some of these pictures and my daughter Erin took some too.

Where’s that woman who used to embody farm?
She would work and still pull off that striking charm
 
There’s an empty spot in the garden over there
 A place vacated by the mother with golden hair
Aunt Janette leads Jacqueline up to see the calves.

Aunt Janette leads Jacqueline up to see the calves.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Can I walk for a while where she would tread?
O’er the grounds many visitors she had led
 
 
That child’s hand isn’t held walking next to us
It would’ve been by the girl who grew up in Texas
This is how I remember my Aunt Janette. Strong enough to walk alone, but always looking to see who else might benefit from a little help.

This is how I remember my Aunt Janette. Strong enough to walk alone, but always looking to see who else might benefit from a little help.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
May I enter her home and just sit for a while?
I can smell the bread and still see the smile
 
The room is full but something’s out-of-place
There’s a smile missing, absent, a friendly face
With a little boost from Aunt Janette, the frail could fly.

With a little boost from Aunt Janette, the frail could fly.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Can I say a little something to remember her by?
How she’d reach for the frail and let them fly
 
There are stories shared, each must be told
Recalling the wife that never did look old
Always happy to see us, my Aunt Janette, and my two daughters, Jacqueline and Erin. 7-25-2012.

Always happy to see us, my Aunt Janette, and my two daughters, Jacqueline and Erin. 7-25-2012.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Is it just me or is there happiness found here?
“…there am I in the midst…”; He is near
 
Gathered there is strength, and even more love
Missing here, we need only smile and look above

The day after

The day after; it’s been just a day, a single day. I went to bed early this evening because I was completely wiped out. Exhausted. All I wanted to do was to lie down, close my eyes, turn my brain off, and drift off to restful slumber. Well, I got some of it done, but the brain just wouldn’t quit. The last few days have been overwhelming for a number of reasons. And after a brief stop on the couch, I find myself here, in front of the keyboard with a headache and nothing specific to write. I have been praying for words over the last two days, and I trust they will come.

Before I go too far with this piece of writing, and I honestly don’t have an idea where this is going to go, but I have a hunch it’ll drift towards an area some 350 miles northeast of here before I get done, I wanted to say a few words to a whole lot of people. First, I am my mother’s son and there was no way my mother was going to miss the remembrance and celebration of Janette Peterson’s life. Second, I am Lloyd and Janette’s nephew and there was no way I was going to miss the remembrance and celebration of Aunt Janette’s life. Third, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. Thank you all for the support, for your kind words, and your encouragement. Fourth, I am honored. It is my honor to share the thoughts, memories, perspectives, and principles I have accumulated through the observance of, and interactions with, the tremendous family I have been surrounded by for my entire life. Fifth, I am humbled. I am taken aback, and deeply humbled by the outpouring of comments, thoughts, words, thank you’s, hugs, and encouragement I have received in just the last few days regarding the words I share through writing. I came to New Brunswick like the rest of you, to celebrate and remember Janette, and maybe be the help a friend or family member needed in the moment we were with one another. I struggle to find myself remotely worthy of the praise and the many kind words I have received in the last several days. Finally, I am proud to be the son of a Beal and a Peterson. Biased, I am sure, I don’t think I could have asked God to do me any better than He did. I am the first person in history to be born of both these Beal’s and these Peterson’s, and I couldn’t be more proud of the family members that came before, or since, my existence began.

Since I have started writing on a fairly consistent basis, I find that words often come more easily to me than I ever would have guessed. I mean, when I started writing I laughed at myself (often times, I still do) because I wondered who in the world would ever want to read anything I ever wrote unless it was something about their kid playing in a game or something. Then I asked myself, what on earth would I ever write about?  I feared I had nothing to say. Now I find things I would like to write about quite a lot. Then there’s tonight, when I feel like I could take the next two months and write non-stop about the things that have crossed my mind since Friday evening, but I can’t focus in on a single word, let alone a single thought. So, my head just hurts, in part from fatigue, in part from scrambling thoughts, memories, emotions, smiles and fears. Mostly I wonder about my 6 cousins who just lost their mother, and the husband, my uncle, who lost his wife.

I hurt for them. I think of them. I pray for them. I wish myself useful to them. If I could be the door that they all could walk through and be with Janette again, I would pursue each of them and allow them passage again and again. If I could be the last thought in their mind ensuring they drifted off to sleep I would be a memory of Janette that cannot be pondered, ever, without bringing a smile to their lips. If I could be the thing that let them finally expel that deep breath, that let them drop their shoulders, that allowed them to release the tension in their necks, and fondly remember Janette, now at His table, I would be there at the ready urging them to indulge. If I could be the example to them, the one that answered all of life’s questions, or at least gave them proper direction, I would defer, and ask that they just remember Janette, and truly understand all that she was, and for all that she stood for. And if I could be their sincere, silent prayer that ensured that any of them, or their families, could forever be at Janette’s knee, I would be bowed in focused reverence before my Lord whispering the words for them to follow right into salvation.

Well, I wasn’t expecting this to read the way it does, but here it is. I sit in the dark at my computer, wishing I was physically closer to the family in this time of need. Before I head off to bed I just need to say again, Uncle Lloyd, I love you. You know how I felt about Aunt Janette. I love your family, and if I can be of any help, just ask. I miss you all. I pray for all the Peterson’s often, and when I am not praying, it’s quite likely that I am still thinking about you all. It’s been a single day, the day after.

My Aunt Janette.