Author: Heidi VanderSlikke

Remember The Jetsons? They were the space-age antithesis to The Flintstones (the “modern stone-age family”). Both were cartoon series created in the 1960s for prime-time television. Family life has always made for good stories in any era. The Jetsons, a futuristic family, had a household full of quirky technology.

He’s been Dad to me for more than 40 years. Our family patriarch just turned 90. I want to dedicate a few words to his character. Believe me – he is a character. Dad was born in Willemstad, Holland, the youngest of six boys in the VanderSlikke family. Three of those boys died in infancy, a sadly common occurrence in those days. Apparently two of them had been named Job. According to a custom of the times, Dad was named after his deceased brothers, but they modified the name into Joop.

The other day, Hanna, my not quite four-year-old granddaughter, said to me, “Nana, I stood by the window all morning. I waited for you for HOURS.” I smiled as I pictured her forehead pressed against the glass, enduring what felt like eternity before my arrival. With age, time takes on a different perspective.

For kids growing up in the 60s “screen time” usually meant sitting in front of a black and white television with the family. We watched shows like Walt Disney, Ed Sullivan, the Beverly Hillbillies and Bonanza. And then there were Saturday morning cartoons – the exclusive domain of the youngest viewers in the household. Savvy advertisers long ago understood how to target the covetous side of human nature. Beginning in November every year they jammed the airwaves with clever commercials offering a plethora of the latest toys, trinkets and games.

When I first met Gerda Hesselink she was in her 80s, but there was nothing old about her. With clear, bright eyes and an easy smile, she was always ready for worthwhile conversation. Keen to listen to and encourage others, Gerda also had her own story to tell.

Like many young couples in post-war Holland, Gerda and her husband John dreamed of making a better life. They longed to farm. After much prayer and consideration, they felt the Lord leading them to Canada. Along with their two little boys, Bert (two years) and Ab (eight months), they immigrated in 1951.

Years ago we had a young friend who longed to be a missionary. He pursued his calling with proper training and education. In the process, in spite of holding down a couple of part-time jobs, he accrued significant debt. Charles had a sincere heart, a great imagination and a terrific sense of humour.

Jack’s knee replacement loomed large on the horizon. We scrambled to cover all the bases ahead of time, anticipating his six weeks of recovery as best we could. Plans for a quick vacation before the surgery morphed into mornings spent working, followed by afternoon motorcycle rides.

“Hay’s for horses,” we used to say as kids. “But straw is cheaper.” Truthfully, when Jack and I were newlyweds I didn’t know the difference between a hay field and a wheat field. Over the last 40 years I’ve learned a few things. We rotate crops between corn, soybeans and winter wheat. Cropping can be stressful.

Jack and I looked after three of our granddaughters one evening so their parents could take a well-deserved break. With little Chloe already nestled in her crib, we read stories with Abigail and Hanna before tucking them in for the night.

I LOVED ART CLASS IN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL, even though my work was often sent home incomplete. Most of my classmates easily finished their projects within the allotted time. I would still be changing colours or adding lines, tweaking, trimming, trying to get every detail exactly right.

New Year lends itself to personal reflection. I read through my journal entries and flip through the pages of our wall calendar, thinking of milestones gone by and ordinary activities and events that filled the past 12 months. I consider aspects of my life that need to change, and ponder whether that’s realistic. Can I make my devotional time more meaningful or my morning routine more efficient? (I do love expedience!) Are there better ways to spend my evenings? What habits have crept into my life? Are they worthwhile, or should I rid myself of them?