It Never Gets Old

The truth be told, it never gets old. To hear them cry their very first cry. To see their eyes when they see you the very first time. To hug them close and breathe them in. To feel the softness of their skin on yours. The list is infinite and yet it never becomes redundant. I never tire of, nor do I ever lose track of the miracle each tiny baby brings into our ever growing family. This time I had a first of my very own. A first that I still can't believe was mine, but it's true and it's so beautiful. I got to catch Hazel. No, she didn't fall no, the midwife didn't drop her. I got to reach down and slip her ever so gently from her mommy. I was the firsts person to touch her, I was the one to lay her on her mommy's tummy, I was the one to deliver her. The midwife asked me if I wanted to help. How could I say no? At first I was a little nervous, but as the time came closer all I could think of was having that quick bonding moment before handing her off. Heather, the midwife, didn't make me gown up or glove up for which I was grateful. I just got to reach down and slip her out skin on skin. I held her up and time skipped a beat at the beauty of the moment. Gifts come in so many forms and yet this one may have been one of the best gifts God has ever allowed me. I cannot wait until Hazel is old enough to sit on my lap and I can tell her that I was the one to help her out of her mommy's tummy and meet her first before anyone else. Thank you Lord, thank you Jazzie and Brian and thank you Hazel for giving me the best day ever!

Pather, Pa, Papa: Three Words That Bring A Smile To My Heart

Here we are, most of us anyway, a few more babies belong to us now, a new fella for one of my girls, a husband finally for another, but for the most part we were all in one place. Thomas came into our life when Sarah was 6, Jazz 4, and Backle 2, there was an awkwardness for a very long time as to what to call him. They all settled on Tom and that was the norm. My heart used to ache to hear the word "Daddy". I called my own dad Daddy and I knew what it meant. Shan called him Dad , but somehow it just left my ears longing for more. I can't remember when it all came about. This new name, this new word. I think it was sometime after Iris was born and he became Papa. My ears liked this new name, my heart too. My girls had a Papa and he was so very special. Papa was a big name to live up to and Thomas was doing his best. I still missed the familiarity of Daddy. Then one day it happened he became Pather. It was Becky that named him. I know she thought about it for quite a while. And I suppose if the truth be told she is still the only one who calls him that. I don't know if she knows the gift she gave to us all. To be the one brave enough, thoughtful enough, silly enough, to give him a name all his own, she gave everyone else the permission to call him something besides Tom. Now, for the most part, he is Pa to the big girls and Papa to the babies.

It was quite an undertaking, to romance a woman with so much baggage and I am not just talking about the girls either. I watched him when he didn't know I was looking. I could see the fear. Was he wondering if he was cheating on his own little girl with my babies? I suspect yes, he was. Yet, he didn't voice his concerns. There were hard, hard times and I would be lying if I said there weren't, but time heals wounds and I think that many a scar are near a faint trace of what they started out to be.

His life and outlook changed the very minute Iris was born, she brought with her into this world healing for us all. She brought with her a road paved with love and forgiveness. The softening of hearts and a new start. How amazing the love for and of a child can be. The permission to cry happy tears and not feel silly as they fall, the warmth that radiates from your core at seeing their first accomplishments, the kisses on boo boos, and the protectiveness at anyone who even thinks to harm and the touch, that soft skin next to yours and you know that now all is well. Though Tom and I never brought any children into this world together we did raise four beautiful daughters and Iris, she was the bridge that brought it all together.

While he has be away working the girls call everyday to see how he is. They miss him. And as Jazzie readies herself to bring our ninth grand baby into our family the lines are blurred and all but vanished as to who belongs to whom. They are all just our children and I am honored to hear the these three words, Pather, Pa, Papa. It may have been a rough journey getting there, but now that we are here what a smile me heart wears. Happy Pather's day my love, you are the best!

Skinny Marie AKA Fat Fat Fat Head

I am blessed. Blessed beyond measure. My portion more bountiful that I could have ever imagined. This is my youngest grand baby. Papa calls her Fat, Fat, Fat Head, which was kinda cute considering she does have a, well, ummmm, a, oh heck, a large head. Sorry baby. Fat Head was okay for us big people to say knowing that such a moniker would go away when sweet little MaKenna Kay was old enough to know that Fat Head was maybe not a flattering name even though it was used here as a term of endearment. Her big sister Olivia, however, thought Fat was a good name for her baby sissy and took to using it full time. So, her mommy come up with a much better name. She is now, and will be forever, Skinny. Hmmmmm... My favorite movie of all time is Pretty Woman. If you are familiar with this great cinematic work of art, then you know in the begining there is a slain prostitute named Skinny Marie! I can't help myself. I keep calling her Skinny Marie! It just goes together perfectly. So, to you my sweet Kenna Kay, know that your Ranny Nana Nene Mimi, means no disrespect but, you will now and always be my Skinny Marie. Sorta like my little Livie, is my precious little Livery Sue. Don't ask, it just happens. Those sort of things just fall out of my mouth and become the names I call my grand babies so, here's to you my sweet sweet babies, Mimi, Bird, Skinny Marie, Livery Sue, Mina, A, Hanky James, Thatty and to my baby on the way, I am sure that your Nana will find just the right name for you too.

A Funny Thing?

It's a funny thing: this life, this heart. Just when you think you've reached your limit and you can't handle one more thing...One more thing comes speeding at you and before you know it you've been hit you are knee deep in the What do I do Now's. What do I say to my beautiful husband when he tells me I am too distant? How do I tell him I am already lonesome and he hasn't even left yet? I try to speak, but the tears come and all my words are a jumbled up mess in the depths of my throat. Caught there trapped and unsaid. I am definitely not the typical 10,000 word a day woman and in times like these I find it best to say very little. My eyes are like a summer sprinkler watering a barren lawn; tears fall without provocation and he is confused. How do I tell him it's okay to go? How do I tell him the tears aren't all sad and as a matter of fact I am happy for him. I am happy for this opportunity. I am happy for the journey and for the paths we both take. I am not afraid to be alone I do well alone, but I know my heart will ache and my body will long for his touch. The way he touches me when I least expect it. The way he watches me when he thinks I'm not looking. The way he kisses me every morning before he dresses and faces his day. The way he tells me I am beautiful usually when I am feeling my ugliest.

I would be lying if I said everything was perfect between us, but we have come so far in the last few months. He is starting to explore his world with emotion and I see now out in the open the man I always new he was. I could always see behind the facade, this man, this beautiful, beautiful man. A man strong, not afraid to cry, a man of God, a man of integrity, a gentle man, a good and caring man. I know this job will be good for us. I am a little jealous he gets to go and I have to stay here. Not that I am that much into living in South East Alaska, but that they will have him every day and our bed will be down one person. I love the way he smells when he sleeps; a combination of soap and shampoo with an undertone of diesel that just wont wash away. It seems the blankets warm him up like an incense burner and the smell of him fills me up. I feel safe when he's there and when he kisses me goodbye I move to his spot in our bed and I breathe him in and all is well. How does one get used to sleeping alone? How does the heart adjust? I guess I am going to find out.

It's funny I guess. I have known this day was coming soon and now that it's here I am finding it harder than I thought to find my courage. To be strong and know that all will be well. We pray everyday for the Lord to provide and believe that He will. This is an answer to our prayers and it feels right. I have never questioned the rightness of it. I have no trepidations. I think I just realized right this very moment that it is the right thing to do. It is what the Lord has given Thomas and I. And he promises to never give more than we can take. So I will rely and that promise and I will hold fast and know that my lover, my best friend, my confidant, my strength is only a phone call away. He is only a plane ride away. He is and will be right here with me tucked safely away in my heart. I will wrap myself in his shirts and breathe in the scent of him and all will be well.

He has given me a gift. In truth he has given me many gifts in the last few months. Most of them have not been material gifts, but gifts of himself. He has, maybe for the very first time, given me his heart and even though I hurt him he still gives it everyday. It's a precious gift and one I cherish. On the material side he gave me a puppy. Bebe. I named her Bebe because I think it sounds kinda sassy and she is kinda sassy. She is a funny little puppy and I am deeply in love with her. This was a gift of sacrifice for him. He didn't want a dog or any of the responsibility that comes with having a dog, but he knew I wanted a dog and he made the desire of my heart a reality. I have wanted a Corgi puppy for years and now I have one and she is perfect. Every time I look at her I think of him and how much I love him. I hope he knows that I know what an important gift she is.

For now I am going to stand up straight, wipe away the tears, and let him know everyday how much I love and appreciate him. He is the love of my life. I know he was a gift from God. He has taught me so much about love, about myself and what it means to be a partner. He is my strength on this earth and I am grateful for him. So here or there I am just gonna love him with all I got and hope that he can feel my love across the miles. In this life the list is very short of people that have made a mark on my life that remains with me today and has formed the way I see this world. Thomas makes me want to be better. He makes me want to be the best I can be. Even something as small as not biting my finger nails he celebrates for me. He is proud of me. It makes me want to do better. To be a better person and I think that is the center of what God intended love to be. So thank you Thomas. Because of you I have been able to throw away most of the heavy baggage that I came to you with and I am peaceful. I can breathe...I can breathe. Oh, my sweet, beautiful husband I wish I had the words to tell you how very much you have influenced my life, how every trial has made us stronger, how every happy minute has made me so very, very glad that you found me and I found you.

The Joy of Reading

I made myself a promise. A promise I intend to keep. A promise, I told myself that is only a little self indungent, but good for my soul. I promised to read at least one book a month. How ever shall I keep myself at task? I know I will start a book club! I am a genius! So I gathered my beautiful girls, Jazzie and Backle, my friend Delda, Backle's friend Kate and together we read. We read Water For Elephants by Sara Gruen. All I can say is WOW! What a beautiful book. Sara Gruen mixes the true and the fiction and comes away with one of the most beautifly written books I have ever read. The most exciting part of the read wasn't just reading it was knowing that there was a group of great, strong women out there reading the same words I was reading. Feeling the same things I was feeling... I had something in common with my daughters, my friend, my daughters friend. I could hardly wait until we could come together and talk about what we had all expeirienced. Life behind the scenes in a depression era circus. We all cried, we all laughed, we all grew, we all shared in some way or another our heart, our mind, our soul. So now as we read our next pick, Running with Scissors by, Augusten Burroughs, I again find myself excited and fidgeting away on the couch because I want to discuss this book with someone. I want to talk away into the evening about Augusten and the life he led. I am honored to be in the company of the women who will soon come to my home with book in tow, a bite to share and a common need to wonder why. There are a couple new girls this month and we still have room to grow a little bit. So, if you are out there reading this and you think you might want to join us I would encourage you to hop on the train and ride along. We have only a couple rules. You must be over 21 and free on a Thursday evening. You have to give equal floor time to the incredible women of the group and even if you don't quite like this months book you have to promise to read and come along side as we dive into the world of the written word. I love to read. Why I don't allow myself the time I don't know, but I made myself a promise. A promise I am going to keep. And next month as we pot luck and talk the night away I am going to be greatful I have something in common with such an amazing group of women.

Shades of Purple

I first read The Color Purple when I was young mother. It was that one thing I could do for me while I was breast feeding my oldest daughter. I loved breast feeding it was the best thing that ever happened to me. It was a bonding that I don't think bottle feeding could ever emulate. But I digress..... Sorry. Now as a big girl all grown up with daughters married and bearing children of their own I watched The Color Purple on stage and was at times brought to tears, keeled over with laughter and filled with joy that I could witness this beautiful story with my beautiful little girl Becky, who isn't in any way aw little girl , but a woman and a mother. It's funny I still see her as my baby. I know she isn't , but my eyes still see her as a child. We had an amazing dinner before the play and I am still not quite sure what all we ate. However I think I should have been born Japanese cause that food was incredible. I just laughed and sat there as they brought us course after course of food I had never before seen or tasted and I savored every bite. I think it was the company; my little child/woman who was so excited to have a "Big girl" night out. We had drinks, we had dinner and we watched a beautiful story unfold. Sug tells Celie that God is everywhere even in The Color Purple and I think she is right. Some days the purple is washed out and it is only lavender and some days the purple is so intense it is almost red, but every day there is a shade of purple and Christ's hand has painted the day. I guess it is us who lightens and darkens the shade with our attitudes and actions. I think for this new year I will try my hardest to leave alone the perfect purple that the Lord sends down and try and live my life even and trusting the shade of grace given to me this day and the next. Because if God is truly in purple then maybe just maybe I need to rethink my view of that color. It may just be the most beautiful color in the box.

No Regrets...

Christmas, a time to reflect on the year, the love we share, not just for each other, but the love of a savior, the love of a father and the sacrifice he made for us. My husband and I hosted a Christmas party for both of our families in 1998. It was a big affair and much to my surprise everyone came. I am sure now that it was a gift from the Lord. A gift for each of us. Everyone walking away with a different gift , but a gift all the same. I didn't know then that it was the last Christmas I would spend with my dad. Nor, did I know that it would be the last holiday of any kind that I would spend with my sister. As I was standing in the back room mashing potatoes for forty five with my daddy and laughing at the use of Coleman stoves to cook for so many I was caught up in the delight of spending time in the kitchen with him. I wasn't thinking ahead to a time when he would no longer be mashing potatoes of carving turkey. I cherished that moment in time, held it close to my heart both then and now. My last Christmas with my daddy. My sister was fighting cancer and appeared to be in a winning phase and that was good. My mom, just a couple days later would end up in the ICU, bleeding from who knows where and chemo would follow. I was tired, tired from all the work of the party, tired from all of the Dr. visits, tired from all of the worry. Wondering when I would lose them. Would I have another Christmas?

Now ten years later, all of our children are grown and on their own. I am an orphan. My sister is resting in Heaven with my mom and dad. I am happy for them. I have a vision of them together looking down on all of us and smiling. Holding tight to one another and waiting for our time to come again. That is the greatness of a Savior and a life eternal; the simple thought that never again for all of eternity will I ever, or those that I love, be alone. I have friends and family who seem to take for granted their time here on this earth. Take for granted that the ones they love will be here when they feel like hanging out. They seem to think that time is irrelevant. That time some how stands still and when they deem it ready that all the ones they love will be anxiously waiting in the wings to be graced by their presence. Wouldn't it be amazing if it worked that way? Then there would be no regrets. There would be no what if's. What if I would have just gone last Christmas? What if i would have just set aside my differences and loved them with all my heart? Did they know how much I loved them? Did they know they were important to me?

So many questions and too few answers. I don't know why, but I am grateful that God allowed me no regrets. No what if's. He just made me the kind of daughter that wanted more than anything to be with her parents. The kind of sister that even though we weren't raised together she knew I loved her and I knew she loved me. This whole idea of taking for granted my loved ones has been laying so heavy on my heart these last few days I had to find a way to get rid of it. So here it is written down and tucked away so that I can move on. I pray I never have to comfort someone that I love through regrets and what if's. Someone I know just told me we all want to be Norman Rockwell family at Christmas. We all have too many expectations of what Christmas is really all about. It reminds me of Clark Griswald in Christmas Vacation. It wasn't about presents and all the other stuff that junks up what Christmas really is. It was about family, the good and the bad, the weak and the strong, about getting all together and throwing out, if only for a day or a week, all that makes us crazy about each other and coming together as one great big bunch to just let everyone know they are loved. It is the gift that Christmas is. The gift given down from Heaven above. The gift of love and salvation. And right here on this earth when times seem tough and we can't always feel the love of Christ he gives us each other to remind us that love is abundant and it comes in many forms. So for those of you who take love and loved ones for granted I hope and pray that the Lord gives you the time to make it right and that there will be no regrets and no what if's in your life. And for those of you who have no regrets I am happy for you and blessed by your ability to love.

Merry Christmas, joy, peace and much love,
Kim