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

Thanksgiving

I guess we had a fine Thanksgiving lots of laughter around the table and the turkey, well, it was my best, if I do say so myself. All of my kids except Sarah were home and I'm getting used to holidays without her. I wish she lived closer and maybe someday soon she will, but for now I am learning to accept those things that I cannot change. A hard lesson that one, learning to accept the things that make your heart ache. Learning that heart ache is what you make it. It either rules you, or you take charge and rule it. I am taking the lead on heart ache now and it feels pretty darn good. I still though, don't understand when families hurt each other. When mommies say and do things to hurt their children, when daddies turn away from their daughters... I ran into an old "friend" the other day and she is expecting her second grand baby. For me a new grandchild is another little piece of Heaven right here on this Earth, but she wasn't happy at all. She was mad that her son had fathered yet another child without thinking before screwing as she put it. Sad... It isn't the baby's fault that his father doesn't think first or with the correct head. I am guessing now that that sweet little baby is going to need all the love he can get. I also have a friend who is expecting her first grand child and the baby is going to be born very sick. She will need surgery within days if not hours of being born and though everyone has their hopes high I know there is fear lurking in the background and I think about her daughter. As a mom you wish only to keep fear and pain at bay for your children and in this case both of those things are impossible. So you rely on your faith to bring the much needed peace and you pray that God, the Father, reigns down all the mercy and grace he can muster.

As the holidays approach I am more thankful than ever. Thankful for my girls, for their babies, for my family, my friends and yes, even for moist turkey. I no longer will live in the past and the sadness of it. I miss my mom and my daddy so very much, but I know they are still here with me and as for the stuff that happened that has caused much sadness in my life I have forgiven those that need forgiveness and that includes forgiving myself for allowing the tragedy that happened to have taken place. Forgiveness is a much needed necessity and now that it has taken place my life is so much easier to accept. So, there is that word again, accept, hmmmmm....... I wonder why it has taken me so long to accept acceptance. I may never know. For now, I am just happy I have a loving husband, happy children and the most beautiful, smartest grandchildren on this earth. Oh yeah, I got to meet my 9th grandchild the other day. I cannot wait until he/she is born and in my arms. Yes, I have much to be thankful for.

Christianity

Just a little warning I am gonna rant a bit. It has been common knowledge that I have always been a little left of right it my values and views which usually doesn't coincide well with Christianity, but I call myself a christian and I try desperately to live a christian life. To do what the Lord would have me do. To treat others with the love that Christ commands me too. In 1 Corinthians 13:13 we are told of three gifts given to us by God; And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. So here lies the problem for me. Granted we live in a broken world, but must we in the name of Christianity break it further? The gay community wishes to be married legally, to raise their children like heterosexual couples do as married parents. What, I ask you is the problem here? Yeah, I know what the Bible says regarding homosexuality, but like I said, this world is broken and no matter what the church wants this matter is not going away things change and like so many other values that have seen crumble away in time the gay community will get what they ask for as long as they are willing to fight for it. I remember when living together without the confines of marriage was considered the most evil of sin and now it is common practice no one even thinks anything of it anymore. Who am I to stand in their way and why in the name of Christ would I protest a life style. Why in the name of Christ would I stand on a street corner and profess that the God of love, the God who gave his own precious son to die for me so I can live in the mercy and grace of a love so incomprehensible, could hate, or cast out, or despise, or any other hateful thing a group of people who want only to legitimize the union they long for. I find it almost laughable that so many of us are so afraid of commitment that we run and hide from it confines and here is a group of people who want so desperately to commit to one another and they cant. Why not stay out of it and let the Lord judge for it is he that makes the final call. We all go before him in the end. Having said that I am having a hard time with the gay community infiltrating church services and standing outside churches and temples protesting Christianity, or maybe more correctly the church. One act of hate in retaliation for another isn't right either. There is no more eye for an eye, nor tooth for a tooth. That is old testament law and we live under a new covenant. I can only stand up for myself, so I vow only to love in the Name of Christ and even though there are things I don't personally believe in I will never spout hate in the name of Christ and it is my personal mission that when I here hate spoken in the name of my Savior I will speak up loudly and remind them that we serve a God of love not hate and that he wishes all to be saved and no one to perish. I will remember the greatest of these is love and I will not judge. And I will pray that it starts with one and then another and another and soon the word Christian will again be a sweet word, a word that speaks only love and it will never again be a word of hate.

The Color Purple

I was 21 the first time I read The Color Purple. I picked up a copy at the local Safeway, started reading and didn't quit until the last page was turned. Ceilie, what a woman you are. Next came the movie which I have seen a time or two and now, in just a few short months I will see it on stage, set to music. A full circle moment. I think I may have to revisit the prose just to remind myself of the beauty of Alice Walker's words. The story she tangles up in the emotions of my mind. The relationships, good, bad, ugly, implied. I can't wait to see the rise of this woman on stage. You go Ms. Celie, you go!!!

"Aunt" Jemimah

This is Lily Kate. She is my sweet granddaughter full of life and her own very interesting take on this world. I always love to get her view on things I usually learn something. Her mom is going to have a baby. It took Lily a few days before she could grasp the idea of her mommy having a baby in her tummy after all Auntie Backle just had McKenna in her tummy and you could definitely tell that something was going on inside. It was big and round and even moved every now and again. She could touch it, feel it move, but her mommies tummy was just the same as it always was. It took her sister Iris to convince her that the whole thing wasn't a joke. Now come the questions. With much though she asked me one day if her mommy was going to have her tummy cut open like Backle. I explained that mommy would have her new baby brother or sister a different way, but it would be up to mommy to tell her how. Lily was fine with that and our conversation went on to more important things like could she have her candy that we had bought at the store for after dinner. A few days went by and my phone rang it was Jazzie, Lily's mommy, calling to tell me that she and Lily had had a little talk and she, like me, had learned a little something from having spent some time chatting with Lily. Now, as you know most families have names for certain areas of their children's anatomy. Jazz has always referred to the girls private parts as their "girl spots". This has been fine up until now. As Jazzie tried to explain that the new baby would emerge into this world via her girl spots. Lily looked very confused, so began the use of correct terminology. Mommy has a vagina, (the big V word), just like your girl spots, Jazzie explained and the baby slides through it and out the opening and into the world. Lily contemplated this new word and realized with much joy that she too had a Jemimah! Now, I ask you, my fellow sisters, isn't Jemimah a much sweeter word that the ol' "V" word? I say let us unite and together make the change. From now on we birth our children through our Jemimah, menstruate, make love... You get the picture. Historically it has been men who have come up with alternative names for that very sacred place. Now we as women can fight back and instead of some nasty and ugly name that a man has come up with we as women can stand together for change and embrace our JEMIMAH.

Loss

I suffered a loss this weekend. She didn't die, she just ceased being the woman she was and finished the metamorphosis she has been going through for the last twelve or so years. I am void of feeling. Empty. Sad. She is here on this earth, in this world and yet the last glimmer of the person she was, the woman I grew up with and admired, the woman I hoped to emulate someday is gone. In a word I know she would understand our relationship has become "toxic" to me. I know that if I continue to nurture this relationship I will only get hurt and am I willing to continue in hope that she will return? I think not. I must take a stand for myself, for my heart and just say good bye. Now, I am left with this dilemma. Do I tell her I love her with every beat of my heart, but something has changed between us and I can't continue putting myself in this position, or do I quietly walk away and cherish my sweet memories??? What would Christ do? I know that he would continue to love, but how would He, have me, for a lack of a better word, behave in this situation?



In this life we play at the relationship game. We love, we laugh, we cry, we are passionate, lazy, carefree, obsessed, tired, sated and in the end we hope that we have left a legacy of love. That those who matter to us know they were indeed loved. Someone I know once told me she wanted her Epitaph to read, "She loved Well". The words people would remember her by when she has left this world. The simple little words that come to mind when her loved ones reminisce over coffee during the holidays.. She Loved Well. What more could someone want than to be remembered with such elegant words. I have thought over the years about this little sentence and I hope my loved ones know that I love them... I love them to the moon and back (thank you Lily), that I love them just as they are, that they are what keeps me alive, they are what gives this journey meaning. Now as I look back at her and some of my most cherished memories include her and as of late some of my saddest. My heart and my head are in a wrestling match and I don't know which will win. So I pray. I pray Lord lead me. Father help me to not become bitter. Holy Creator wrap me in your love and keep me from this world. Show me Father, how to love and still keep the boundaries that I need. Heavenly Counselor give me wisdom. Prince of Peace humble me and make my heart sweet again. Jesus hear my words and know they come with love. Amen



And now I know I have done all that I can do.

Together

She is married! Red wedding dress and all. The ceremony was beautiful and even though there were a few little glitches they made no difference in the end. To see the joy on her face was enough to erase any stress from my memory. Now, the picture... One might expect the bride and groom, or at least the wedding party, but my son-in-law Dylan took this picture and maybe it might seem a bit silly, but it's my favorite. Now that all the girls are grown and on their own it isn't often we are all in the same place at the same time. Here we are my beautiful girls and me. I cherished the moment this picture was taken. Chaos everywhere, wedding guests milling about, the final touches on the decorating going on, keep the groom away the bride is out and he can't see her yet, it goes on and on, but right at that minute the world stopped for me and I was surrounded by the beauty of my girls. I could feel the warmth of them, smell them, each their own scent sweet, spicy. I could see them, touch them and be reminded of the miracle they are. My babies all grown up. Women, beautiful women. Did I have anything to do with that? Pride tells me yes, I formed them all, but honesty reminds me they are who they are despite me. I would be such a liar to say that I have no regrets in the way they were raised. On the other hand I am pleased in so many ways of their upbringing. They know what is important and the material isn't even near the top of their lists. I hope that is because their father and I instilled family in that spot. So here in the place I had set aside to lament on the walk down the aisle, the flowers, the music, the food, the kiss, I have strayed from the path and taken the one traveled by the mother of the bride. That path that you can't help but linger on when your little princesses become women and all you long for is to feel them snuggled up close with their heads beneath your chin, their little face against your chest where they can hear the beating of your heart beat just for them and they know beyond any doubt that they are loved. Sometimes the path feels so long and steep, but in reality it is a short little lane and the time spent there is unforgettable. So for you Jazzie, my baby in red, I am so happy for you and I hope you can forgive my selfish moment and understand that this picture warms my heart and reminds me that for a few moments we were all together and you all knew you were loved.

Big Sister

From this day forward Olivia, like it or not, happy about it or annoyed, you will be known as Sissy, Sis, Sister, Big Sissy, oh precious girl it goes on and on. The days of Olivia will fade and you will just be Sis. I promised I would never do that to your mommy or your cousins, but it happened. One day without even knowing it I called Iris Sis. She is no more my Mimi, she is Sis or Sister. I don't say this to take anything away from you. I say this because it is an honor to be the oldest. It is a place of esteem to be the big Sister. MaKenna will adore you and soon she will follow you wherever you go. She will want to be just like you. She will think you hung the moon and lit the stars. So Olivia, my Liver Sue, be a good big Sister. Love your little sissy and help your mommy. Mostly though know that when you are with your Nana that even though I may call you Sister, I know that you are Olivia. You are now and will always be my Livie Girl.. Even when I slip up and call you Sis.

7 Days and Counting

Seven more days Makenna and then I can hold you in my arms. I will whisper in your ear those words I have spoken to every grand child. Those words meant only for you, "who loves you like I do?" And someday you will answer me, "No one." And you, my precious girl, will be right because no one in this entire great big world will ever love you quite the way I do. You and me, we share a secret bond. I, after all, am your Granny. I think God made a special place for grandchildren and grandparents. Kind of like that special thing between a father and a daughter. No one can exactly explain it. It is what it is and what it is is SPECIAL. I look forward to our meeting. That day that you emerge from your mommy's womb all pink and warm. Wide eyed to the bright lights and big noise that met you as you entered. Vulnerable now and in need of protection. But, baby girl, you may have to wait a few minutes to have my undivided attention because your Mama may need me too. It is a strange and beautiful adventure for a mom to watch her babies have babies of their own. Both fear and excitement wash over and tears fall both happy and sad. No mother wants her daughter afraid or in pain and the fact is that birthing is full of both. My baby girl, my baby girl, is twenty four, well almost, and she is having her second baby. I am saddened because I cannot witness your entry. They wont let me in for the C-section. I guess sadness may be too harsh a word. I have a need.. a need to hold my daughter's hand and wipe the sweat from her brow. A need to wipe away tears when they fall. A need tiny baby, to hear your first cry, see you take your first breath and know that you are strong for this world. A need again, to see my daughter when you take these firsts and know that she too is well and that the fears of the last nine months have turned only to the awe of meeting you. Your little fingers wrapped tightly around hers, your lips shaped like an "O" searching for her milk, your eyes open and locked on hers when you see her, your mommy for the first time. So many firsts happen in the first hour of your life... I don't want to miss even a second, but I will settle for what I get. I will have too. MaKenna just know that your Grammy is waiting for you. I am waiting for my turn to feel your little baby cheeks against my face, to feel your infant body curled against my chest, to smell the sweet smell of your head as it lays just beneath my chin, and to hear the labor of your newborn breath. And tell your Mommy that I am so proud of her. I am proud that she bore you and blessed that she will share you and a little sad that my baby isn't really a baby anymore.

She's Getting Married

She's getting married, my baby girl. She has been a mom for nine years. A woman before her time, yet somehow it didn't taint her. It hasn't made her bitter to give up her childhood it has made her gentle, strong, loving, proud, beautiful, generous....... She has done all the things that a wife and mother do all without the bonds of marriage. Now in just over a month she will become a wife. Brian's wife. A boy who in his own right became a man too early, his own childhood haulted, a father and a boy all at the same time. He is a good man full of integrity. I love him as my own and I am proud of this man. But this is about my little girl, my Jazzie. We watched again for the third time today Mama Mia. I spent the entire movie crying today. I think for the first time it hit me that she is getting married. She and Brian have been together thirteen years and for the last nine they have shared a home. They have beautiful children and together they work hard to make a happy family. I look at her and I see a little girl full of life. I look at her and I know she is a woman. As we plan this long awaited day I see the confidence she once had coming back to her I see the joy in her face and I can feel the worth she feels in herself. You see in these last few years I have watched as this girl full of joy has shrunk back from herself and lost faith in who she was. I didn't know what to do for her. I know it is something women go through. That feeling of what am I here for? That feeling of thinking I am not good enough. I am not as pretty as I once was. I am tired. I am trying and no one notices. Mom, mom, mom, mom.......... Who am I? Where is Jazzie... She is right here my sweet girl, she never left you. I wish she could see herself through my eyes. I am in awe of her. She is a great mom. Her children are happy and they know they are loved. She is a good wife (I can't say the word girlfriend it just doesn't apply). She is a good friend. She is generous and always willing to help anyone who needs it. I see her wrestling a bit with her spirituality and growing into a woman who walks with the Lord and knows the importance of Christ in her life. But mostly what I see when I look at her is my little girl with her twinkly eyes. The simple things make her happy and she knows that the most important things in life are the small ones. Those perfect moments when your soul and surroundings are in harmony and all is well in the world. She is a woman who takes on life without fear, but still calls her mom everyday. I still want to make the world a safe place for her I want to hold her on my lap and let her know Mommy's got you baby girl and I will never let anything bad happen to you but, I know we are way past that. She has taught me so much about love and grace and mercy and what being a mom is all about. I guess if I could say anything to her at this time in her life it wouldn't be any words of wisdom about how to be the best wife you can be, nope , not even close to that, I would tell her thank you. Thank you for being my daughter, my friend, my teacher. Thank you Jazzie, for being you and for letting me everyday share your life with you. Thank you Jazzie for being you.

The Men In My Life

It would be impossible for me to make a comment on my life without first acknowledging the men who surround me. So many women like to think that they are who they are because they are woman; W-O-M-A-N, say it again, but the truth be told we are who we are because our fathers, grandfathers, boyfriends, husbands and sons have made their mark on us. Sure we have women in our lives and for those of us that are blessed we have strong independent women, but women are shaped by the love or lack of love by the men who intertwine their souls with ours. Having said that it works the other way too, that is to say men are men in part because of the women in their lives. It seems a cruel joke at times. Little boys abandoned by wayward mommies or smothered by overprotective well meaning matriarchs trying to raise a gentleman, yet making a boy too soft and the brunt of the school yard jokes and little girls spending their days dreaming of the knight on the white horse when their only model is a man who beats their mom and love is a mere perversion of insestual sex and secrets kept in closets and crumpled up shattered hearts. For me, I was blessed, raised by a man who was, in fear of being terrifically trite, one of a kind. he was strong and he was tough, yet he was gentle and never afraid to shed a tear over a fathers day card. He was and is the man I compare all others. He was a man of morals, a generous friend and neighbor, there when needed and left judgement to the Lord. He prayed, but never out loud. He lived the christian life without ever preaching. Like Jesus would like us to live I think. To do rather than talk and love without strings. He smoked from the age of thirteen. It is what killed him. I still cry at that thought. A man strong enough to withstand frostbite to pick up aluminum to sell for a pittance of money to put food on the table had not the strength to throw away the one thing that eventually killed him. I wasn't angry at him though. How could I be angry at him? He loved me more than life itself and I loved him. I long to feel his hand at rest on mine, to see him sit in his chair asleep with the T.V. on, fishing at the bay, puttering about the shop, stirring the soup I have simmering on the stove, or feeding the dog a loaf of bread. When I needed nurturing I turned to my dad, I turned to him for a hug, a chest to bury my face in, a simple I love you. He taught me love, love over anything else, love no matter what.

Next, there is Thomas, my husband, my lover, my friend. What can I say? I have learned more about what love really is and what true commitment is from this man than I could have from anyone else in my entire life. I was once told love is a choice, some days you just wont love each other you'll have to make a choice to love him. I can honestly say there have been times when I wish that were true. Times when I wished I could hate him, when I would have given anything to not love him. A choice to love him... I have never had to make that choice, I just do. I love him when I am angry, frustrated, in pain, when I don't want to, but mostly I love him when he speaks only to me, when his eyes meet mine and even though there are people everywhere around us time is suspended and we are alone in coversation. I love him on long road trips when we solve the problems of the world together, in the morning when he gets out of bed way too early and I roll over into that warm musky spot in the bed that smells like he smells when he is warm and asleep. I love him when he calls me every morning to check on me, as he calls it, but I know it's to see if I am still asleep when he thinks I should be awake. I love him in the afternoon when he comes home all dirty, dusty and oily. He is so cute when he comes home from work. I know he is safe one more day. I love him when he sleeps on the couch and when he goes to bed too early for me. I love him when he laughs; when he laughs until he cries.. You haven't laughed until you laugh with Thomas sometimes at the wrong times (Omar) and at the right times. I love him when he is crotchety and grumpy. I wish I didn't love him when he is sarcastic, but I do. We have been through some stuff, big stuff, life changing stuff and through it all there has been love. Thomas is a man haunted by days gone by, yet living strong in the now. He is a man of faith and though he still tries to do too much on his own he knows where his help comes from. He is a man of integrity and it is important to him. He too is a good friend always there for whoever may need him. He is a music man and I tease him about his mistresses; his guitars. All in all I have learned much the same things from Thomas that I learned from my dad and that is love is more important than anything else and a prayer every day doesn't hurt either.