You Are So Beautiful to Me

 

HAPPY MOTHERS DAY, MOM!! I love you.

97 Years Young

Ninety-seven. It's a number that is hard to wrap one's head around in regards to age. Even with her frailty Mom's age surprises people. I think it is because her spirit is still young.

Family and friends were all good about remembering her with flowers, cards, calls, and emails. I am touched by the people in this community who took the trouble to send her good wishes.

Coletta and Bob came up for a few days. Here Coletta is giving Mom a wild ride on her walker (or go cart, as she prefers to call it) into the dining room for a lasagna supper. Steering seemed to be a problem.

SKYPE calls and phone calls came in all day. Mom loved it, but sometimes got confused when too many people talked at once. Here someone called in time to help us sing "Happy Birthday."

Three amaryllis plants will bloom by Christmas.

Happy 97th Birthday, Mom. We love you. You have touched all of us with your gentle, determined spirit of love.

This Week I Thank God For...

...the intercom monitor between Mom’s bedroom and ours,

...warning signs,

...folding transport chairs,

...not being home alone,

...reliable transportation with gas in it,

...24-hour hospital emergency rooms,

...kind and knowledgeable medical staff,

...modern medical technology,

...cell phones, internet, public wi-fi routers, & Facebook,

...prayer chains, family, and friends,

...understanding bosses,

...pacemakers,

...experts,

...Mom, and

...time.

25 Things That Inspire Me

Yesterday we were blessed with a whole day of blue sky and, although the rain-soaked clouds are back today, I can bear the dreariness much better after the opportunity to soak up some cheerful sunshine. The reprieve, brief though it was, helped me to appreciate once again the life-giving force of water rather than let myself drown in my frustration of its temporary over-abundance. This made me realize once again how important it is for us to be aware of what inspires and sustains us so that we may open ourselves up to the positive in our lives whenever possible. I have decided that acknowledging the negative in my life is necessary for realistic assessment and learning, but dwelling on it is draining. Therefore, I challenged myself to discern 25 things that fill me with life and inspire me so that I can more consciously direct myself toward life-building hope, appreciation, and joy. It is an interesting and somewhat surprising process. What's your top 25?

God’s Grace
Family
Nature
Shopping Buddies
Music
My Computer
Architecture
Sunshine
Uncut Fabric
A Smile
Art
Joy
Color
Photos
Gentleness
New Paper
Camera
Creative Supplies
Thoughtful Words
Feeling Loved
An Interesting Challenge
Reading
Shared Trust
Someone’s Faith in Me

Mothers Day

Madonna and Child (cropped) by Rafaello Sanzio

There is a type of love that comes with being a mother that, for me, can only be described as ferocious. It is so strong that it influences decisions, drives late night worry, and overrides mistakes, hurts, and doubts. At its worst it can become unreasonable, manipulating, and selfish, but at its best it is forgiving, healing, and empowering.

This year I have experienced Mothers Day for the 55th time as a daughter and the 35th time as a mom. Although I miscarried our first child at three months, the feline roar of that love had already begun inside of me. It is as a mother that I was able to better understand my own mom. Her sacrifices meant more to me once I was an adult than they did when seen through childish eyes. Like being able to replay a movie to get more meaning from it, I now understand her perspective. For instance, as a child, I didn’t understand why she befriended a neighboring woman and her three small children. The kids had snotty noses and seemed unkempt to me and I was horrified once when she asked me to take them to a puppet show during a church bazaar. But Mom was inviting me into the realm of empathy and compassion. Knowing the woman was on her own after leaving a drunken and abusive spouse, Mom sewed clothes for her kids and helped rebuild her confidence through acceptance and friendship.

As a daughter I have come to realize that, although I struggle to become autonomous and wrestle with my own values and decisions, I will always be a child in need of a Mom’s love and approval. Oddly, that doesn’t even change when you have to assume the role of your parent’s parent because of age or infirmity. Similarly, as a mother, I am experiencing what Mom warned me of many times: that you never stop worrying about your children even though your ability to protect them wanes.

I believe Mary and Jesus understand this kind of connection because they lived it. I did not appreciate their relationship fully until I became a mother, but now I can imagine what this woman went through at the foot of the cross because I know in my heart that as she looked up at her son’s tortured figure, she could still feel his tiny presence in her arms from when he was a baby. It is comforting to me to know that they understand the struggles and the pain and the love that we experience in this life, and that we can look to them for sustenance where our human experience is wanting.

The connecting thread between mother and child may be fine, but it can still be strong. Ferociously strong. Forever.

Pieta by Michelangelo

Thank You, I'd Like That

Christmas is all about gifts. We search high and low for the perfect “somethings” for those special people in our lives simply because we want to illicit that sharp intake of breath and exhale of surprised joy. We scour toy stores in order to obtain the one item for which a child has pinned all his or her hopes on Santa to bring, lest he or she be disappointed in their hero. We trade homemade gifts with neighbors and we even share a little something with coworkers because even the most irritating people look less so against the halo of light emanating from our Christmas spirit. We make sure the homeless have a place to sleep and a proper holiday meal, we toss change into Salvation Army pots as we shop, and we donate gifts to names on the community tree. It all adds up to a lot of giving, a lot of buying, and a lot of gifts. Although this seems to be a testimony on materialism, I can’t help but see a different perspective here.

From the Christian point of view, Jesus is a gift to us from God; a gift of Himself given to lowly and privileged alike. Not earned. Not bought. Not deserved, but given anyway...and, what’s more, given with a love that expects nothing in return. Such a perfect gift, given in such perfect spirit. In our best moments, our giving can come close to this same spirit. Yet, it has occurred to me that this Christmas theme of giving is only half of the story about gifts. Acceptance, the theme of the final week of the Advent season reminds me that the giving of gifts is not complete unless the gifts are received.

Now, I’m not sanctioning a “gimme, gimme, gimme everything I want” kind of attitude, but just a gentle consciousness that people in our lives work hard and sacrifice to give to us all the time. Yet, pride or embarrassment or stubbornness often keeps us (er, me, let’s be honest) from accepting it.
“Ah, no thanks, I’m fine.”
“Oh, no. I can do it. Thanks anyway.”
“Naw, that’s too much trouble.”
And the most beautiful, selfless gift that people offer us, but that we tend to either take for granted or shrug off as not necessary, is their time and themselves.

So this year I am going to enter Christmas and the New Year with a spirit of acceptance as well as that of giving. I am reminding myself that I can’t do everything alone and that I need to say yes to help sometimes. For faith, hope, love, safety, freedom, friendship, family and the miracles of everyday life, I am thankful and blessed and I send wishes for all of the same out to every one of you. Don't forget, miracles happen to those who believe in them...

Curls For Christmas

I am not sure how many years it has been since Mom’s last perm, possibly three, but it has been her greatest regret; the last vestige of southern pride torn from her during her troublesome ninth decade. She has mourned its loss to all who might listen, and even to those who are indifferent, feeling that she must recount that last experience when a wave of dizziness convinced her that the chair she was in was falling. Gripped by a confused beautician who assured her that the chair was nailed down and she couldn’t fall, they weathered the spell and gave up the idea of a perm since leaning backward over the sink, which occurs three times during the process, was what had triggered it. To one who will not leave her bedroom, let alone the house, without her Elizabeth Arden “face” on, nor go to town without the “right” pants on, straight hair (which also has the audacity to be perceptibly thin now) is not acceptable.

The nineties have forced Mom to deal with some irritating challenges: random flashes of dizziness, limited range of motion, knotted hands, an increase in general aches and pains, a few seizures, and a general decline in strength and stamina. However, dealing with straight hair has been the bitterest of blows. Since she cannot raise her arms enough to reach the back of her head, I curl and brush her hair. Although I have expressed willingness to curl her hair more often, she only wants to “inconvenience me” once a week so that it looks good on Sunday for church. Unfortunately, without a perm (as she has often bemoaned), the curl only stays in for two to three days. This is not a good thing for a woman of southern breeding.

Today, Danielle’s friend, Ashley, came to Mom’s rescue. A recent beauty school graduate, and a “Grammy fan,” Ashley came to our home to give Mom a perm. She had even purchased a special hair bib (for want of a better term) that can be used to funnel water into a sink without the wearer leaning backwards. Although we need to work out a few kinks, since Mom couldn’t have ended up much wetter during the second rinse if we had put her in the shower, it still kept her from having a dizzy spell. Fortunately, Mom saw the humor and laughed as hard as we did while I helped her change clothes before Ashley gave her hair a trim.

There are so many ways that illness and age-related issues can steal away people’s dignity that it felt really good to see a little of that reversed for Mom today. I purposely didn’t tell her Ashley was coming until this morning, which was almost too early because by mid-afternoon she was starting to become fearful that she would get dizzy. I tried not to waiver and to stay positive and, thankfully, Ashley came soon after that and we just got the process going before Mom could back out. So, a little drenching a couple hours later was easily met with merry laughter because by then the danger of failure had passed. That is such a nice accomplishment for Mom: to not have something outside her control cause her to fail. Who would have thought that a perm could matter so much to self-esteem, but it was definitely a victory; a sign that life is not over yet because human spirit can still prevail! Today, in this fourth week of Advent, we have certainly experienced the theme of joy. When we dare to hope, we open the door to the possibility of joy. What are you rejoicing in today?

This Member of the Family

This valiant rig (that’s what we call vehicles in EO) is hereby honored for its years of faithful service to the K-kids. Today it left, yet again, to safely haul another K-kid to the city in pursuit of dreams (or a job). Originally meant to transport D to and from work, it has led a much more noble life of providing freedom and safety to his children. Quickly gaining on its second hundred-thousand miles and sporting new brakes, it rises to the new challenge of fitting into tight parking spots, starting up on the first try, and bringing its charge (and her siblings?) home for regular visits.