In the future when you see my posts on Facebook, I hope you'll think of them as, “stones”. When I see your posts on Facebook I'm going to ooh and aw over your pile of blessings as well. Besides, lifting all those "stones" will keep our attitudes in great shape during the ups AND downs of life!!! Happy hefting (er, posting) see you on Facebook.
Just a little postscript: My oldest grand daughter, Taylor, is starting middle school this year, feel free to lift her up as she begins this new chapter in her life, she's a wonderful kid, I'm praying it will be an awesome time for her.
Have you ever heard the sarcastic blessing that goes something like this, "May your real life be as perfect, someday, as your life is on Facebook"? I enjoy Facebook. I like looking at all the smiling faces, people enjoying vacations and dinners with family and friends, it makes me smile. I like celebrating new births and weddings via my different friends on Facebook's pages and the photographs they post there. Facebook can make life look perfect; however, most folks over 10 years old, who are breathing, know that life isn't perfect, that every day can mean some new challenge or difficult problem to face. Honestly, many people find turning 11 and starting middle school tough, kids that age can be pretty cruel. Life gets more "real" around that age , middle school might well be called the "first level of the school of hard knocks" where we began developing the tougher skin needed to navigate through the twists and turns ahead of us..
I know some people feel the need to be what they call "transparent" or "real" on Facebook. Not me, I feel like most adults know life isn't perfect, and so I choose to take the glass is half-full attitude when posting. For example, the other day I posted a picture of me and my oldest granddaughter out to lunch. It was a special one-on-one time. What I didn't post was, we were actually trying to pass the time pleasantly until she went to have her wrist x-rayed. Just that morning a few hours earlier, she had slipped and fallen while shopping with her mother and re-injured the wrist she had broken last spring. Thankfully it was just a sprain and not another broken bone, but our time together was special, and that was the part I wanted to focus on that day.
Most marriages have ups and downs, most people suffer themselves, or have friends and family that suffer from various illnesses (some very serious), people lose jobs, business owners deal with the ebb and flow of fickle economies, and the list of hardships is endless. I am thankful for friend’s posts that alert me to areas in their lives that might be helped by prayer. Every morning I spend time praying for friends and family who are in need of prayer for healing, for improved job situations, for many types of difficult challenges. My prayer list only seems to grow it never seems to get shorter. . Hard places and difficult challenges are rarely unique to individuals and finding others who have experienced, faced and even conquered various obstacles can be comforting and encouraging, but if there’s a blessing in the midst of misery, I try to focus on it. Each day has its challenges, but each day also has its joys and blessings too. Thankfully my days are filled with the beautiful smiles of my grandchildren, the blessing of my husband coming home each evening from work, and sharing time together with friends and family. Even little blessings, like the hummingbirds coming to my feeder throughout the day, bring me joy and lift my spirit.
In the Bible there are many instances where the Lord blesses or delivers his people from difficult situations and in thanks they piled-stone upon stone to create a memorial, and remember and commemorate his grace and mercy in their lives. I feel like my Facebook posts are kind of like those stones, they commemorate the blessings and the grace and the goodness that the Lord bestows on me daily. So when I make my posts, I realize my friends and my family know my life isn't perfect, but I do have a lot to be thankful for.
Stepping into my daughter’s kitchen the other day I was greeted by my little two year old granddaughter. Aubree rushed to hug me and then stooped to touch her leg and show me the “boo boo” she had gotten at play group the day before. With a hug and a kiss she was happily on her way. I stood there watching her skip down the hall and thought how nice were the days when a band aid and a kiss could make things “all better”.
These days a band aid and a kiss won’t make the kinds of problems my friends and family are dealing with “all better”. I have friends who’s hearts are breaking for their children who have made poor choices, friends who have lost parents and spouses and said good bye to friends young and old, friends whose bodies have betrayed them and left them living in constant pain or with life-threatening illnesses. I want to “fix” the hurts and make the pain go away, and there lies the problem . . . I can’t!
I hate to admit defeat, but the truth of the matter is some hurts, only time, the natural healing processes and God can make better. As I watched Aubree the other day, I suddenly realized that a band aid and a kiss wouldn't heal the cut or scrape under the bandage, but it somehow made it, for that moment feel better. In that instant a tremendous burden was lifted and instead of thinking of ways to heal or fix life’s big boo boo’s for my friends, I started to inventory my “first-aid kit” and make sure it was stocked with plenty of band aids.
Sometimes a literal hug and kiss can give a moment of calm and relief. I am a hugger. I have often been blessed and comforted in the arms of those who love me; gentle touch is certainly a healing balm. A card, a small gift, a sweet smelling bouquet, a phone call, text, or note, all can give a moment of peace and even joy in the midst of a storm. The good thing is, when the ultimate healing takes place, it might be these sweet bandages that will be remembered along the painful road to resolution or wellness.
The truth is, I’m still a “fixer”. If I can step in and make it “all better” then that’s what I want to do, but I’m glad I've reached the point where I realize these are still nice days when a “band aid and a kiss” can make those things I can’t “fix”, at least for the moment, feel a little better”. So dear friends, I’m off to check my "band aid" supply . . .kisses to all!
"Women know the way to rear up children (to be just). They know a simple, merry, tender knack of tying sashes, fitting baby-shoes, and stringing pretty words that make no sense.
And kissing full sense into empty words."
~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning
As I write, my fifth granddaughter, Lucy, is asleep in her crib in the room next to mine. Over the river and through the woods, my sixth granddaughter, Livie, is probably having sweet dreams in her crib. Their moms are busy every waking hour, just as I was with my little ones; but times have certainly changed since mine were babies.
With shelves full of books on birthing, bottling, bathing, bathroom training, and everything in between, I’m concerned that today’s mothers are suffering from information overload. When you throw the internet, with its blogs, boards and informative websites, into the mix, it’s mind boggling. Sadly, the “how to’s” seem to have become the “have to’s”. Because my daughters are having babies, I also am blessed to know and love their friends who are also raising little ones. Some of what I see and hear is troubling.
With our two littlest grandbabies less than 4 months old, sleep is still a big issue. One of our daughters has very successfully used a popular sleep training book with wonderful results. Our other daughter has been trying the book’s system as well, but struggles during the part of the training that requires letting the baby cry for a short time. I have watched as she sits unhappily watching the baby cry, baby monitor in one hand and timer in the other. “I hate this,” she said to me half way through the training the other day. She looked miserable. That night the sleep training was a disaster for both baby and mother. The next morning my daughter and I talked. “Your sister’s babies are extraordinary sleepers,” I said. “Maybe the book suggestions worked on that front, maybe they are just naturally good sleepers.” She nodded. “Your mothering instincts are really, really good,” I told her. “What do you FEEL like YOU want to do when it’s time for the baby to nap or go down at night?” We had a great talk, she is developing her own system based on her feelings and instincts and the personality and needs of her little one. The baby is sleeping better, daytime and night time, and both of them seem happier. Mommy’s instincts win again.
I’m so proud of all three of my daughters and the way they love and care for their children. And I have many nieces who are also doing a great job raising the next generation. With Mother’s Day fast approaching, I want to applaud them all. I want to give a standing ovation to all the young mothers I am blessed to know. Now, turn off this device, close the books. Go hold your baby and make silly, funny faces, use ridiculous baby talk, and hug them tightly. Before you know it, they’ll be sleeping through the night, using the potty by themselves, and making YOU breakfast!!!!! Oh, and pick one practical, baby reference book, the rest can go to your local used book store. You’ve got this mothering thing covered.
Note: Babies and their wonderful moms top to bottom: Daughter Jean and Lucy, Daughter Steph and Livie, Daughter Ellie and Taylor, Niece Evelyn and Zach, Niece Christy and Desmond, and Niece Caroline and Gavin.
“Sometimes, people come up to me when I am knitting and they say things like, "Oh, I wish I could knit, but I'm just not the kind of person who can sit and waste time like that." How can knitting be wasting time? First, I never just knit; I knit and think, knit and listen, knit and watch. Second, you aren't wasting time if you get a useful or beautiful object at the end of it.I will remember that not everyone understands. I will resist the urge to ask others what they do when they watch TV.”
At Knit's End: Meditations for Women Who Knit Too Much
Having new babies in the family has given me lots of opportunities to knit some little sweaters and hats and crochet some blankets. I love to knit; it’s one of the things I do to relax. However, my latest little creation became a study in patience.
I have found a really neat yarn. The creator of this yarn has dyed it in such a way that when knit well, faithfully following a pattern, and keeping the stitching even, this yarn will create a lovely pattern without any effort. I love it, it really looks pretty, and to be honest impressive, despite the fact that it’s just the way it was planned and dyed that makes the outcome so wonderful.
I started a little sweater for my granddaughter Lucy about a week ago using this special yarn. It was the first time I used this yarn on a project bigger than a hat, and I was pretty excited to see how it would work out. The back of the sweater went perfectly, I checked the pattern I was working from faithfully and I paid close attention to what I was supposed to be doing. Next I began the sleeves and front of the sweater. I was feeling pretty comfortable with the directions, enough so I decided to watch some television and knit at the same time. Sleeve one and side one went perfectly!!!! I loved it, and now I was about three-fourths of the way done, coming down the homestretch. Sadly, I began to check the directions less frequently and watch the television a bit more, I was distracted. Before I knew it, I had bound off the wrong side of the sleeve! To say I was unhappy would be an understatement.
Slowly I backtracked through the error. I picked up stitches and gently slid them back on the needle. So much work had already gone into the sweater but even so, I felt like throwing the whole thing away. It was a lot of work trying to get the stitches back on in the right order and turned the correct direction, to be honest I did my best, but the sweater now had a big mistake, stitches that didn't lay flat anymore, right on the front. I decided to continue knitting and deal with the area that had the flaw later. I was very careful to keep my mind and focus on the task at hand, and to not give up. Finally, I came to the last row, bound the stitches off, sewed the seams together and looked at the little sweater now lying in front of me. No matter where I looked, my eyes continued to be drawn to the big flaw on the right, front panel of the sweater. Except for that one flaw, the sweater was practically perfect. I was disappointed and frustrated.
As I sat there staring at the flaw on the sweater front, it occurred to me that if I could cover that area with something cute, or pretty, the sweater would look great and all the work that had gone in to it would not be wasted. I pulled out my crochet hook, whipped up a floppy flower with some of the remaining yarn, and used a big, color coordinated button for the flower center. Voila, the flaw was corrected, it was gone, and the flower gave the sweater a whimsical, fun kind of look. I liked it!!!
Later, as I looked at Lucy modeling her new threads, I thought about how that sweater is kind of like my life. The creator of my life has made me in such a way that if I keep focused on his pattern and directions, my life will go smoother, and the finished product will be pleasing and useful. But, there are times, like when knitting the sweater, I haven’t stayed focused, haven’t exercised my faith, and sadly, it’s left some glaring flaws and not so pleasing areas on my life canvas. But as I looked at Lucy, smiling and bouncing around with that big bloom on her sweater, I realized, just like me and my flawed sweater, the Lord, hasn't give up on me, or discarded me, and just like I covered those crooked, bumpy stitches with a big, floppy, cute flower, He has covered my flaws with beautiful blooms of compassion, forgiveness, grace, mercy and love.
I am so happy I didn't have to pull that sweater apart, but even more grateful for the Lord who keeps me from unraveling every day. Hoping the finished product of my life will one day bless the one who created and continues to guide it, and so thankful He has an endless supply of beautiful blooms.
"The daffodil is our doorside queen, She pushes upward the sword already, To spot with sunshine the early green."
~ William Cullen Bryant
A week ago it snowed. Not unusual, it snows in Maryland almost every winter, except this time it wasn’t winter, spring had sprung. The daffodils were out in full bloom, the promise of warmer weather was in the air, and then a cold front hit the DC area. Now, there were daffodils blooming on snow covered hills. Daffodils are hardy flowers, despite chilly temperatures, when the snow melted and the mercury rose again, the beautiful, golden flowers continued surviving and thriving.
Since the first of the year I have lived life at a furious pace. Baby Lucy arrived in January, our fifth granddaughter and first blessing of the New Year. Once home, nights and days ran together and even though I was one tired Grammie, I wouldn’t trade those special middle of the night snuggles for anything. Three weeks later, our sixth granddaughter, little Livie arrived and I was off to join in the fun at the Willett household, so many precious moments with Aubree and Livie, their mom and dad and Mimi who had also come from Florida to help. I’d be lying if I didn’t say, after almost a month of helping with new babies I was exhausted, but life continued at a furious pace.
Bob and I both turned a year older in January, a loved one became ill and needed hospitalization, our oldest granddaughter broke her arm ice skating, family birthdays were celebrated, we attended our grandchildren’s school events, I made a guest author appearance, hosted my book club, continued to help with the little ones, grieved the sudden death of a dear friend, and most recently had family here for Easter dinner, there were 28 at the table that day. In other words, life raced on.
I enjoyed that snowy spring day; it gave me time to slow down, sip some tea, think, reflect and look at daffodils blooming in the snow. Those hardy daffodils stood tall and spotted the landscape with their surprising yellow faces, defying the late cold snow to bring them down. As I watched the snow falling, I felt like one of those sunny blooms. Despite the demands (and blessings,) of the last few months I was still standing, still enjoying the special moments and soldiering through the difficult times. Thanks to the Lord, through the demands of the previous weeks, I found out I was pretty hardy too.
Things seem to be settling into a more normal routine finally. I think I’m even starting to catch up on my rest. Hoping soon to welcome warmer temps and cherry blossoms, but for now the daffodils (and me) are still standing strong.
"For you created my inmost being; you knit me in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know them full well."
I’ve never been very good at waiting. I like my life to move at a pretty fast pace. I love projects that can be completed quickly, and I like moving on to something new as soon as possible. But some things, I’ve come to realize, just can’t be rushed. Babies are one of those things.
Since last spring I have watched as two of my daughters have transformed from slender and lean to round and full. Their moves have gone from fleet and flowing, to heavier and slower. Things that were effortless now require more energy, and some things are just not worth the effort. Their bellies have grown week by week and now, there’s no denying, those tiny lives within are close to making an appearance, but . . . we wait. I’ve never been very good at waiting.
So much has changed since I had my babies thirty years ago. The nurseries are high tech now, wipe warmers, video monitors, and gadgets to track diaper changes and nap times have replaced, cool wipes, peeking in the door and over the crib rails, and pencil and paper. It’s astonishing! As wonderful as all the new conveniences are, happily the important things remain the same. Expectant mothers still wash fold and fill drawers with tiny shirts and socks and gowns and marvel that the baby will be small enough to fit them. Diaper pails still stand at the ready (better, less stinky ones). Tiny tubs, bottles of shampoo and lotion, and fluffy towels are prepared and waiting for bath time, but most importantly the hopes and dreams and longing to hold the life within are still the same. The slowing of time as the end grows near and the waiting for the contractions, the steady waves that will bear them out from their mother’s seas still remains, it’s the same. I’ve never been very good at waiting.
Thankfully, with babies, the waiting is worth it all. Amazingly, these little ones arrive just on time, no surprise to the Creator, who after all, according to scripture, knit them in their mother’s wombs, formed them, and already knows everyone of their days. My three were so worth the wait as were the beautiful babies they have already birthed. The counting down has definitely begun. I start each day wondering if this will be a special little someone’s birthday. Thankfully, before long we will meet these, new little people, and not surprisingly, I have to say . . . I just can’t wait!
I peel back the backing on the first of three electrodes and place it three fingers down from my collar bone. For many years I’ve been checked for missed heart beats, but recently they have become more frequent and have lasted longer, so now the changing of electrodes every other day for 30 days has become my new normal. There’s no denying that a few of the episodes lately have frightened me. The pounding, skipping, and erratic heart beat a few weeks back hurried me to my cardiologist and now, here I am with a heart monitor for the entire Christmas season.
I like to finish all my Christmas preparations early so that I can truly focus on my personal walk toward the manger each year. This year has been no exception, barely a week into the month and the tree is up and decorated, the halls are decked, presents are mostly wrapped, stockings grace the mantle, and the cards and Christmas letter are signed, tucked into envelopes and ready to be dropped in the mailbox. Prepared, but not peaceful, ready but not restful, every missed beat causing me anxiety and sadly robbing me of some of the joy I normally feel this time of the year.
It’s hard to admit my faith is that shallow sometimes. I’ve tried to focus on the Lord, to trust Him for every day He gives me and to not let my anxiety rule my head, or my heart in any sense of the word. The truth is every skipped beat reminds me that I’m not immortal physically, that one day I have to say goodbye to loved ones and to the life that I know and find so comfortable in its familiarity. That’s especially difficult to think about this beautiful time of the year, so filled with family and friends. Happily, rest and some increase in medication will probably go a long way to making my ticker a bit more stable. But, in the meantime I’m hoping to find that missing joy.
It is hard to make changes, to leave the familiar for the unfamiliar, to relinquish comfort and peace for hardship and sacrifice, but isn’t that what God’s Son did on that starry night over 2000 years ago. I can’t imagine leaving the beauty and magnificence of paradise for this broken and torn world, and yet that is what we celebrate this time of year, the birth of a Savoir who left the throne room of heaven for a straw lined manger in Bethlehem. Thankfully that reality has done more to change my thumping heart than any other.
So many people are dealing with difficult challenges, losses, and other hardships, so I hope we can join hands, calm our hearts (even those missing a few beats here and there), and follow the star to the Savior this special season. That’s where the missing joy can be found and it’s what I’m wishing for all of my precious family and friends this Christmas. Hoping there will be peace on earth and in your heart and mine . . . do you think that will show up in my cardio output! I hope so.
I looked around the empty rooms. The built in shelves emptied of books, shadows dancing on newly exposed hardwood floors, our voices echoing under the high ceilings, I’d never seen this house empty. Packers and movers had filled and moved box after box the last three days. We had rolled up the rugs and taken the trash to the transfer station, and now it was time to turn the key in the door for the last time. How could this tiny house hold so many memories?
I needed to take one last look around. I leaned into the kitchen. It looked so big without the table and chairs, but the “brick” flooring; red checkered wall paper and curtained windows still looked cheery in the afternoon sunshine. Closing my eyes I could see my grandmother by the stove, stirring the big pot of chili she always had waiting when we arrived for our visits. Beyond the kitchen I knew there would be pies and other goodies on the enclosed back porch. In later years my Uncle’s tea pot collection had graced the area beneath the window. Best of all, with my eyes still shut, I could almost hear the chatter around the table nights as we “little” ones lay in the front room going to sleep. That’s how we learned all about our family history and the amazing history of the small Indiana town where my parents had met and married, where my grandparents had set up house, where I had visited every year of my life.
Taking a step back into the main room of the house I glanced over to where the piano had been until just a few hours before. That piano, with my Uncle at the keyboard filled that little house with music for as long as I could remember. I had even tickled those keys from time to time. My eye’s moved to the empty bookshelves, we are a family of avid readers, I think it’s in our genes, summers I had pulled books off those shelves to enjoy during some of the time we spent visiting my grandmother. She had worked for Donnelly’s publishing company, and so the shelves’ contents flowed into other areas and rooms over the years. I sent up a little prayer that the future occupants would refill those shelves with new tomes.
The sun splashed across the front room as I peeked through the doorway. This room had transformed many times over the years, primarily a bedroom when I was younger it had become a living room once my Uncle had moved in. I could see the rose bush covered in pink blossoms outside the front windows, late for summer roses, but flourishing none the less.
I didn't walk into the bedroom, my grandmother had taken her long braid down in there every night, my Uncle and Aunt had been born in that room. I thought I’d seen enough, I could tell it was time to close the front door, turn the key and finally walk away. I didn't make it to the door before my eyes blurred and filled. Bob wrapped me in a big hug. He didn't try and stop the flow, tears slipped silently down my cheeks and onto the floor. So, I left those tear drops on the hardwood, turned the old doorknob, and put the key into the lock, I wasn't just closing the door, I was closing an era.
I stood on the front porch and looked at the big tree just beyond the railing; I had played under that tree many times. Memories of running off the porch and to the end of the lot to wave to the engineers, who blew the train whistle as they clickity clacked down the tracks behind the house, made me smile. Despite the late fall weather some branches still held their yellow leaves, and they whispered goodbye as the wind blew through them and rustled the golden blanket surrounding the trunk. Walking to the car a big brown squirrel chattered down at me, I felt like he was letting me know he’d be around to watch over things. We pulled off the lot one last time and drove past the street sign on the corner, I watched the house grow smaller and vanish. I knew at that moment that I’d never really leave 710 Tuttle Avenue behind, I had packed up and taken all the wonderful memories with me, and they were safe in my heart.
I love computers when they work and work well. However, when they don’t I become easily frustrated, irritated, frazzled, and want to give them the boot, so that’s what I usually do . . . reboot! Lately I've felt a lot like a computer that’s not working, and because of that I have become frustrated, irritated, and frazzled. My mind is slow, my recall is poor, I’m on overload and wish I had a reboot button.
Sadly I stop functioning well when I go into overdrive. My days have been really full recently, full of events, good and bad, that have come one on top of another, fast and furious. There is no end in sight, it’s called life, and I am trying figure out how to reboot and reload and keep abreast of it all.
Several things have helped me regain my grip. First of all I realized I wasn't spending much time in prayer or the Bible. For someone whose faith is central, that quickly takes a toll. Quiet time conversing with the Lord, reading His Word and lifting cares, concerns, and loved ones up to Him quickly lightens my daily load. It’s nice to remember I’m not alone in shouldering all that life brings to bear each day. Verses like Psalm 62:1, “My soul finds rest in God alone; my salvation comes from him. He alone is my rock and my salvation, he is my fortress, I will never be shaken.” , encourage me. Scripture may not mean much to a non-believer, but to me, it is a great comfort and starts my day with a promise of rest and strength for all the hours ahead of me. I’m a great advocate of meditation, it’s like hitting the “refresh” button.
Another thing that helped me get back on top of my game was some self-pampering. A trip to the beach with my honey and some close friends, listening to waves and sea gulls, talking, laughing, eating, resting, and breaking my normal routine turned out to be the ultimate “reboot”. I’m not one for running away from problems and concerns, but I am for shelving them temporarily when the load gets particularly heavy. The unexpected death of my brother-in-law was the straw that broke the camel’s back; I could hardly wait to feel the sand beneath my feet. My energy level rose each day at the beach and I returned home renewed. I highly recommend mini, restorative retreats.
Finally, to keep things from heating up, I’m trying to slow down and take things a day at a time and not look too far ahead. Just like my computer needs to be turned off to cool down from time to time, I’m learning to turn my brain off from time to time, letting it cool down and reload. Sometimes just throwing a load of laundry in so I can check something quick off the “to do” list, gives me a lift. Other times, I need something more substantial, like quality time with my kids, grand kids husband or friends to refill my tank, I’m an extrovert and people are my pepper uppers.
The world is not going to stop turning, life is not going to slow down. Every moment is important, I definitely need to hit the “save” button from time to time so I won’t forget any memories or waste any time, but for now, rebooting was most important, and I’m back online.
“Snowflakes are one of nature's most fragile things, but just look at what they can do when they stick together.”
Yesterday, for the first time ever, I raised my right hand, took an oath and then took the witness stand. I was in court to testify as a collaborative witness for a friend who had finally reached the end of a long journey, the termination of her marriage. I sat there looking around the courtroom. This was not a happy day for me, and I felt uncomfortable watching the scene unfold. Tension was high, and it was a relief to have this part of the process over when we exited the courtroom. I knew her life going forward would be better, but this experience reminded me of how very fragile life and its parts are.
Two days ago I attended the funeral of a remarkable woman, a friend from church. She fought a three year battle with cancer that inspired everyone whose path she crossed. She was witty, compassionate, courageous, strong and brave, but life is fragile and her passing was yet another reminder that this life is fleeting and we only have the guarantee of this moment. That’s a hard lesson for her daughters and three precious granddaughters to learn at their young ages.
For several years I have prayed for two little boys, from two different families who are battling Leukemia. Their lives should be full of soccer practices, birthday parties with school mates, making big splashes in pools, and silly faces in mirrors, but instead they spend hours hooked to monitors with tubes pushing healing drugs into their little bodies. Their day to day health is very fragile, their parents never know when they will need to grab the overnight bags that stand ready by the door and head to the hospital for emergency treatments.
These reminders can be painful and sometimes frightening. It’s hard to watch a marriage crumble or be reminded of how fragile life is for young and old. Thankfully, I don’t face these hard places by myself. My faith, my family and my friends are there to lift me up and remind me that I am never alone in this precarious journey called life. I am also so thankful that the pendulum usually swings both ways, and for every sorrow there seems to be a blessing.
Last weekend my great nephew was baptized. It was such a special moment as his father’s father took this precious little boy into his arms, and gently sprinkled his tiny head, a grandfather and a pastor, committing his grandson to the Lord. I was also filled with the joy of new life as I watched my fifth granddaughter’s little heart beating on the sonogram monitor, safe in her mother’s womb a few days ago. We had sent a precious saint homeward this week, but new life was also abounding.
The day in the courtroom was difficult, but today Bob and I will attend a wonderful celebration of marriage, the 60th anniversary of a very special couple. Despite the fact that some couples won’t survive the sometimes bumpy road of marriage in this fallen world, there are others who are inspirational in their devotion, commitment and love.
Many years ago, I stitched a sampler that said, “Life is fragile, handle with prayer.” It’s simple, I know, but its truth has seen me through some hard swings of life’s pendulum. Today, I will celebrate this special anniversary with my sweet friends and embrace these happy moments. In the future, I will hold fast to my faith, family and friends when life sends challenges, because in realty, it’s me, not life, that’s breakable, and without a UPS box and packaging, stamped “fragile”, I know it’s that firm foundation that’s going to get me safely to my final destination. Praying all my family and friends will handle and be handled with care and prayer, because your fragile selves are precious to me.
I'm a wife, mother and grammie who loves time with family and friends. I love learning new things, visiting new places, and making each day count, because moments matter and I don't want to waste mine.