The day after Christmas is the loveliest of days when it falls on a weekend. This morning is shrouded in clouds, with a light coating of sleety snow and the threat of freezing rain, but it is peaceful, and I finally have a moment to sit in my cozy chair, coffee at hand, and put pen to paper.
The holiday week has been stressful. Work issues caused turbulence as we attempted to finish two projects in half the time originally specified. Since our office is in our home, the stressful atmosphere also affected my two already over-excited grandbabies. By Wednesday they were boisterously out of control. In the midst of the clamor I was slowly working along to put the finishing touches on Christmas – the gifts, the flowers, the food – all the traditions so much a part of our family Christmas.
As the morning of Christmas Eve dawned, my to-do list was still large. I put a pot of soup on to simmer for the Christmas Eve supper with my daughter and one son & his family. An unexpected visit from a friend with a tiny new baby girl was the highlight of my day. I held this adorable little gift from God in my arms, marveling once again at her baby scent and velvety softness. Looking at her big brother playing nearby, I remembered how quickly these tiny ones grow into robust children – we must take the time to savor the tender moments of their infancy.
By early afternoon, as I returned to peeling and dicing potatoes for two large casseroles of au gratin potatoes, I noticed a spike in my blood pressure, which necessitated a quick trip to Urgent Care, where I was pronounced healthy enough to return to my cooking. The afternoon passed quickly as I prepared the cheese sauce, frosted a cake, and made a pan of brownies. The table was set with my prettiest china, and everything had finally come together for our Christmas celebrations.
After church my family arrived, hungry and in good spirits, and we enjoyed our Christmas Eve repast. All three of my children and their families gathered here Christmas morning to exchange gifts. As we munched bagels and drank coffee, the babies delighted in their new toys, as my older grandson helped referee the squabbles. One of my sons and his family returned for our late-afternoon Christmas dinner – a lovely, quiet meal by candlelight. They lingered after dinner and my little grandson enchanted us all with his antics.
And now, it is all over – the shopping, wrapping, baking, decorating, and the laughter. This morning it is once again quiet in this old house. I love Christmas – it is my most favorite holiday, with its message of peace and joy, its greenery and candlelight, and the loving gestures which warm our hearts. But, I think today I love this “day after” even more – when I can sit peacefully in the early morning stillness of my beloved home, with no chores ahead of me, and ponder the lovely memories of Christmas 2009.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Monday, November 30, 2009
Words of Wisdom and Such
The holiday weekend provided warm memories of family and friends and long conversations which left me with many thoughts to ponder in the coming days. Thanksgiving was a lovely day. All of my children and grandchildren gathered at my son’s house for a delicious dinner, and we relaxed by the fire afterwards, talking and savoring the quiet peace of the holiday, as we enjoyed the antics of my little grandchildren.
On Friday we brought lunch in to my father and mother-in-law. We spent an enjoyable hour talking about their holiday dinner with my husband’s sister, and reminiscing about past Thanksgivings – the larger gatherings, the old traditions, and simpler times. As we tried to remember some maternal cousins, we were reminded of the importance of writing down genealogical information for future generations. We were at a loss as we tried to piece together the connections between this particular line of cousins. I’m certain that I have some notes on this side of the family, which were given to me by a great aunt one long ago holiday afternoon as we looked over old family photos. I must look through my papers one of these days and write down the information I have. Several years ago, I began some genealogical research on my side of the family – it was very interesting and exciting, and I hope to continue it some time in the future when life is a bit slower.
On Friday afternoon I spoke with a childhood friend, in town for a few days, who provided some interesting perspectives and insights on the current state of our economy and political system. In the course of our conversation, Bill commented that none of us can say we’ve never lied or stolen. I mulled this over for a long time. I consider myself an honest person, and I raised my children to be truthful and to stand up for their beliefs, and yet, I think of the numerous little “white lies” I have told here and there when I make up excuses to avoid doing something I really don’t feel like doing. I remember that I break traffic laws consistently – almost never staying within the legal speed limit. I also recall that there have been times in large chain stores when an error was made in my favor at the cash register, and I didn’t call it to the cashier’s attention. In small stores, I am always honest, but if I believe there is no way the cashier will be penalized in a chain store, I will let the error stand, believing the corporate owners have much more money than I do – but, in essence, this is stealing. This conversation forced me to view my own sense of honor in a less favorable light.
On Saturday I spent the afternoon with a friend who shares a November birthday. We lunched at a lovely little tea room, and laughed hysterically as we discussed our sad, but humorous, decline in memory and mental acuity as we age. Rita and I almost always see the humor in everyday situations, and as we shopped away the rest of the afternoon, we kept laughing about some of our more embarrassing memory issues. While our physical and mental decline as we age is laughable at times, it is still a serious issue for us. Women who prided themselves on their youthful beauty are particularly stressed by the aging process. Those of us who were efficient, organized, and proud of the work we produced are saddened as we see ourselves become slower and more forgetful. Friendships are crucial to us at this age – laughing over our shared predicament is the best of medicine.
I received a wonderful Email from a long-time family friend who just celebrated her ninetieth birthday. Edna underwent surgery and chemotherapy for breast cancer earlier this year, so I was thrilled to see photos of her birthday celebration. She looks healthy and happy, and it was so good to hear from her. She was a friend of my favorite aunt from the time they were girls. She included a piece she had written about the small community of Hampton Manor, where her parents had built one of the catalog houses so popular in those days. I was thrilled to hear her thoughts on my aunt, mother and grandfather in those days when they were all young. Since my aunt’s death, Edna corresponds regularly with my cousin – tending the bonds formed all those years ago.
On Sunday I lunched with my close friend, Karen, who is my granddaughter’s other grandmother, “Nanny.” We both lead busy lives, and we very seldom spend much alone time together anymore, so this day was a gift. We enjoyed a delicious lunch and caught up on each other’s lives. Of course, we talked about Alivia. We laughed about a sweet incident recently. Alivia loves to play with her alphabet blocks. As I teach her the letters, I match each letter with the name of a family member – “P” for Poppy, “N” for Nanny, “L” for Luke and so on. Recently, Luke took one of her blocks as she was playing and ran into the hallway with it. She started crying. I said, “Alivia, he just took one block – you have all the other blocks.” With tears streaming down her face, she cried, “But he has Nanny!” Sure enough, he was holding the “N” block in his hand. I think how much this little girl loves her Nanny, and I think how fortunate my grandchildren are to have this large extended family to love. There is a deep security in knowing that you are valued and loved by grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. You are never alone in this cold world – there is always someone who cares and loves you.
Last night we celebrated my daughter-in-law’s birthday with dinner at our house. I kept it simple – roast beef, mashed potatoes, vegetables, and bakery pies. While my weekend was fulfilling and enjoyable, it was also tiring. But, gathering together for a quiet dinner was the perfect way to bring the long weekend to a close. Today we are all back in the world of work and routine, and this holiday is just a pleasant and richly textured memory, but I will reflect on the many conversations that linger in my mind and heart and give thanks for these moments shared with loved ones and friends .
On Friday we brought lunch in to my father and mother-in-law. We spent an enjoyable hour talking about their holiday dinner with my husband’s sister, and reminiscing about past Thanksgivings – the larger gatherings, the old traditions, and simpler times. As we tried to remember some maternal cousins, we were reminded of the importance of writing down genealogical information for future generations. We were at a loss as we tried to piece together the connections between this particular line of cousins. I’m certain that I have some notes on this side of the family, which were given to me by a great aunt one long ago holiday afternoon as we looked over old family photos. I must look through my papers one of these days and write down the information I have. Several years ago, I began some genealogical research on my side of the family – it was very interesting and exciting, and I hope to continue it some time in the future when life is a bit slower.
On Friday afternoon I spoke with a childhood friend, in town for a few days, who provided some interesting perspectives and insights on the current state of our economy and political system. In the course of our conversation, Bill commented that none of us can say we’ve never lied or stolen. I mulled this over for a long time. I consider myself an honest person, and I raised my children to be truthful and to stand up for their beliefs, and yet, I think of the numerous little “white lies” I have told here and there when I make up excuses to avoid doing something I really don’t feel like doing. I remember that I break traffic laws consistently – almost never staying within the legal speed limit. I also recall that there have been times in large chain stores when an error was made in my favor at the cash register, and I didn’t call it to the cashier’s attention. In small stores, I am always honest, but if I believe there is no way the cashier will be penalized in a chain store, I will let the error stand, believing the corporate owners have much more money than I do – but, in essence, this is stealing. This conversation forced me to view my own sense of honor in a less favorable light.
On Saturday I spent the afternoon with a friend who shares a November birthday. We lunched at a lovely little tea room, and laughed hysterically as we discussed our sad, but humorous, decline in memory and mental acuity as we age. Rita and I almost always see the humor in everyday situations, and as we shopped away the rest of the afternoon, we kept laughing about some of our more embarrassing memory issues. While our physical and mental decline as we age is laughable at times, it is still a serious issue for us. Women who prided themselves on their youthful beauty are particularly stressed by the aging process. Those of us who were efficient, organized, and proud of the work we produced are saddened as we see ourselves become slower and more forgetful. Friendships are crucial to us at this age – laughing over our shared predicament is the best of medicine.
I received a wonderful Email from a long-time family friend who just celebrated her ninetieth birthday. Edna underwent surgery and chemotherapy for breast cancer earlier this year, so I was thrilled to see photos of her birthday celebration. She looks healthy and happy, and it was so good to hear from her. She was a friend of my favorite aunt from the time they were girls. She included a piece she had written about the small community of Hampton Manor, where her parents had built one of the catalog houses so popular in those days. I was thrilled to hear her thoughts on my aunt, mother and grandfather in those days when they were all young. Since my aunt’s death, Edna corresponds regularly with my cousin – tending the bonds formed all those years ago.
On Sunday I lunched with my close friend, Karen, who is my granddaughter’s other grandmother, “Nanny.” We both lead busy lives, and we very seldom spend much alone time together anymore, so this day was a gift. We enjoyed a delicious lunch and caught up on each other’s lives. Of course, we talked about Alivia. We laughed about a sweet incident recently. Alivia loves to play with her alphabet blocks. As I teach her the letters, I match each letter with the name of a family member – “P” for Poppy, “N” for Nanny, “L” for Luke and so on. Recently, Luke took one of her blocks as she was playing and ran into the hallway with it. She started crying. I said, “Alivia, he just took one block – you have all the other blocks.” With tears streaming down her face, she cried, “But he has Nanny!” Sure enough, he was holding the “N” block in his hand. I think how much this little girl loves her Nanny, and I think how fortunate my grandchildren are to have this large extended family to love. There is a deep security in knowing that you are valued and loved by grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. You are never alone in this cold world – there is always someone who cares and loves you.
Last night we celebrated my daughter-in-law’s birthday with dinner at our house. I kept it simple – roast beef, mashed potatoes, vegetables, and bakery pies. While my weekend was fulfilling and enjoyable, it was also tiring. But, gathering together for a quiet dinner was the perfect way to bring the long weekend to a close. Today we are all back in the world of work and routine, and this holiday is just a pleasant and richly textured memory, but I will reflect on the many conversations that linger in my mind and heart and give thanks for these moments shared with loved ones and friends .
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Traditions
Yesterday I placed a single candle in each of my front windows, removed the summer wicker from the front porch, and brought out the antique sleds that provide our winter décor. I think back over the countless years I have gently untangled the electrical cords and replaced lamps in these old candles. This is part of my holiday tradition, and lighting them for the first time yesterday brought a deep sense of joy and anticipation for the season ahead. However, this has been a tough year for our family, and my holiday traditions will be necessarily adjusted in the coming weeks.
For the first time in almost forty years, we will not gather for Thanksgiving dinner with my in-laws. My mother-in-law is suffering from dementia and is completely housebound this year, and their house is not large enough nor her emotional state strong enough, to host a dinner with so many loved ones. For years now, I have looked forward to dinner at my sister-in-law’s warm and inviting home, but this year, she will instead prepare a smaller dinner at her mother’s house, and we will gather at my son’s house for dinner. A new tradition is being born – one my little grandchildren will come to cherish. This is a difficult transition for my sister-in-law and me – for so many years our holidays have revolved around her parents – as we make our new plans, our hearts will be heavy. I am looking forward, though to dinner at my son’s house. His wife is a wonderful cook, and the view from their dining room table is of the distant Berkshire Mountains – a sight lovely even on a misty, gloomy day. Our smaller gathering will include all of my children and grandchildren – who could desire more than that.
My sister’s death this past summer will cast a shadow over my joy this season. Even now, as I walk past a display of nutcrackers, I hold back tears, remembering her penchant for nutcrackers. In fact, she cherished her huge collection of Christmas decorations and spent days unpacking them and placing them around the house. Knowing she is not here to enjoy her favorite season is difficult. For several years now, she has invited us for a peaceful meal during the week before Christmas. One of my most treasured memories is of a quiet lunch at her home one Christmas Eve – the day when I am always frazzled with preparations. The delicious food and warmth of her home, with its well-loved decorations and quiet beauty soothed me deeply on that long-ago afternoon. I will miss her.
For thirty-five years, I prepared our family Christmas dinner at my house – a gathering that has varied from year to year through births, deaths, and circumstance. There have been as few as twelve and as many as twenty people crowded into the dining room for this most beloved holiday. The memories flood my heart as I picture the faces that are no longer with us, as well as the ever-changing bounty of friends and family that have graced us with their presence at the table. Our Christmas plans are in flux this year. We will celebrate Christmas Eve with my daughter, and one son and his family, and my other son and his family will share Christmas Day with us. Once again, I will miss our traditional dinner with my in-laws and extended family, but these smaller celebrations will certainly be much less tiring for an almost-sixty woman. For the past couple of years, by the time I had dinner on the table and my father-in-law had given the Blessing, I was too exhausted to taste the meal. I will have more time now to savor the spirit of the holiday, and to focus on my grandchildren.
Traditions are an extremely important touchstone in our lives. They give us a sense of continuity and family cohesiveness. However, as circumstances change, we must be able to revise these traditions. We must hold them in our hearts and cherish the memories of other times and other holidays. It is necessary that we let them go with grace and begin to create the new traditions that work for us now. There will always be a measure of grief for those who are no longer with us, and a sadness for what once was, but we can move on to embrace the reality of our new circumstances and find joy and contentment in the newly-created traditions.
I do hope, though, that I never have to give up my candles in the windows – they quietly spread the joy of the season to the world without and to the soul within.
Happy Thanksgiving!!!
For the first time in almost forty years, we will not gather for Thanksgiving dinner with my in-laws. My mother-in-law is suffering from dementia and is completely housebound this year, and their house is not large enough nor her emotional state strong enough, to host a dinner with so many loved ones. For years now, I have looked forward to dinner at my sister-in-law’s warm and inviting home, but this year, she will instead prepare a smaller dinner at her mother’s house, and we will gather at my son’s house for dinner. A new tradition is being born – one my little grandchildren will come to cherish. This is a difficult transition for my sister-in-law and me – for so many years our holidays have revolved around her parents – as we make our new plans, our hearts will be heavy. I am looking forward, though to dinner at my son’s house. His wife is a wonderful cook, and the view from their dining room table is of the distant Berkshire Mountains – a sight lovely even on a misty, gloomy day. Our smaller gathering will include all of my children and grandchildren – who could desire more than that.
My sister’s death this past summer will cast a shadow over my joy this season. Even now, as I walk past a display of nutcrackers, I hold back tears, remembering her penchant for nutcrackers. In fact, she cherished her huge collection of Christmas decorations and spent days unpacking them and placing them around the house. Knowing she is not here to enjoy her favorite season is difficult. For several years now, she has invited us for a peaceful meal during the week before Christmas. One of my most treasured memories is of a quiet lunch at her home one Christmas Eve – the day when I am always frazzled with preparations. The delicious food and warmth of her home, with its well-loved decorations and quiet beauty soothed me deeply on that long-ago afternoon. I will miss her.
For thirty-five years, I prepared our family Christmas dinner at my house – a gathering that has varied from year to year through births, deaths, and circumstance. There have been as few as twelve and as many as twenty people crowded into the dining room for this most beloved holiday. The memories flood my heart as I picture the faces that are no longer with us, as well as the ever-changing bounty of friends and family that have graced us with their presence at the table. Our Christmas plans are in flux this year. We will celebrate Christmas Eve with my daughter, and one son and his family, and my other son and his family will share Christmas Day with us. Once again, I will miss our traditional dinner with my in-laws and extended family, but these smaller celebrations will certainly be much less tiring for an almost-sixty woman. For the past couple of years, by the time I had dinner on the table and my father-in-law had given the Blessing, I was too exhausted to taste the meal. I will have more time now to savor the spirit of the holiday, and to focus on my grandchildren.
Traditions are an extremely important touchstone in our lives. They give us a sense of continuity and family cohesiveness. However, as circumstances change, we must be able to revise these traditions. We must hold them in our hearts and cherish the memories of other times and other holidays. It is necessary that we let them go with grace and begin to create the new traditions that work for us now. There will always be a measure of grief for those who are no longer with us, and a sadness for what once was, but we can move on to embrace the reality of our new circumstances and find joy and contentment in the newly-created traditions.
I do hope, though, that I never have to give up my candles in the windows – they quietly spread the joy of the season to the world without and to the soul within.
Happy Thanksgiving!!!
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
The Blessing of Contentment
I have been blessed with a happy spirit. I find joy in the simple pleasures of this life, and I am extremely grateful for this gift.
Our society places great value on material success, and it seems that as we work harder and longer to obtain our desires, we sacrifice happiness and contentment. Unfortunately, by the time many people have finally acquired the perfect house, or car, or piece of jewelry, instead of enjoying it, they quickly turn to the next item on their wish list.
How much happier life is for those of us with simpler needs and desires. This past Sunday was a lovely autumn day – sunshine, blue skies, crisp air, leaves crackling underfoot. After a busy morning, I grabbed my kitchen scissors and enjoyed the invigorating air as I cut bunches of herbs from the garden for drying. I brought them into the kitchen, washed them in cool water, and hung them on a special wire installed over my sink. The kitchen was filled with a pungent mixture of aromas – oregano, thyme, rosemary, marjoram, and parsley. This aroma will linger for a few days as the herbs dry, and on the coldest of winter afternoons, as I pinch off some of the shriveled leaves to season a simmering soup or sauce, I will hold the memory of this October afternoon in my heart – a simple memory of a simple pleasure.
Which leads me to another thought – my kitchen. What a sorry sight it is – not a piece of granite countertop in sight, bisque colored appliances instead of stainless steel, and dark cabinets marked by years of use. How I would love to remodel, but at this point, that is an impossible dream. Fortunately, though, I still love this old kitchen of mine. I love the sunny yellow wallpaper border with its blue & white china gracing the wall, and the sight of my pumpkin shaped soup tureen nestled into an autumn arrangement of leaves and grapes is a joy to behold.
Many people would agonize over the condition of this old kitchen, but it still serves its purpose. No one has ever refused to come for dinner because my kitchen is outdated. They come enthusiastically; they sit at the table as I cook, sipping wine and chatting as dinner takes shape. They love my old dining room, with its ancient table set with flowers and lovely china. They savor the food I serve to them. They remember the warmth and the love – the scratched old cabinets don’t bother them a bit.
Sunday afternoon when I walked into the kitchen with several bunches of fresh herbs in my arms, I was greeted by the delicious aroma of well-seasoned pork with potatoes, carrots and onion slowly roasting in the oven. I felt such a tremendous sense of comfort and warmth. At that moment, there was no place I would rather have been. I felt blessed.
Our society places great value on material success, and it seems that as we work harder and longer to obtain our desires, we sacrifice happiness and contentment. Unfortunately, by the time many people have finally acquired the perfect house, or car, or piece of jewelry, instead of enjoying it, they quickly turn to the next item on their wish list.
How much happier life is for those of us with simpler needs and desires. This past Sunday was a lovely autumn day – sunshine, blue skies, crisp air, leaves crackling underfoot. After a busy morning, I grabbed my kitchen scissors and enjoyed the invigorating air as I cut bunches of herbs from the garden for drying. I brought them into the kitchen, washed them in cool water, and hung them on a special wire installed over my sink. The kitchen was filled with a pungent mixture of aromas – oregano, thyme, rosemary, marjoram, and parsley. This aroma will linger for a few days as the herbs dry, and on the coldest of winter afternoons, as I pinch off some of the shriveled leaves to season a simmering soup or sauce, I will hold the memory of this October afternoon in my heart – a simple memory of a simple pleasure.
Which leads me to another thought – my kitchen. What a sorry sight it is – not a piece of granite countertop in sight, bisque colored appliances instead of stainless steel, and dark cabinets marked by years of use. How I would love to remodel, but at this point, that is an impossible dream. Fortunately, though, I still love this old kitchen of mine. I love the sunny yellow wallpaper border with its blue & white china gracing the wall, and the sight of my pumpkin shaped soup tureen nestled into an autumn arrangement of leaves and grapes is a joy to behold.
Many people would agonize over the condition of this old kitchen, but it still serves its purpose. No one has ever refused to come for dinner because my kitchen is outdated. They come enthusiastically; they sit at the table as I cook, sipping wine and chatting as dinner takes shape. They love my old dining room, with its ancient table set with flowers and lovely china. They savor the food I serve to them. They remember the warmth and the love – the scratched old cabinets don’t bother them a bit.
Sunday afternoon when I walked into the kitchen with several bunches of fresh herbs in my arms, I was greeted by the delicious aroma of well-seasoned pork with potatoes, carrots and onion slowly roasting in the oven. I felt such a tremendous sense of comfort and warmth. At that moment, there was no place I would rather have been. I felt blessed.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
These Precious Days
Life at “Grandma’s Day Care” has been a little tough the past two weeks. Lucas is adjusting to being away from his Mom again after a summer of her loving full-time attention; both babies have struggled with viruses which made them cranky and clingy. This year Alivia is two and Luke is fifteen months, so they are both up and running for most of the day – chattering, giggling, fighting, crying and needing lots of attention. I am reminded that just one short year ago, Luke came to me as a three-month old, and this little dynamo boy is now far removed from that helpless infant.
There is a dailiness in caring for children that can be draining. The physical process of changing diapers, preparing nutritious meals, cleaning the children, the floor and the dishes, picking up toys and books over and over during the day, and lifting, carrying and rocking toddlers is tiring at best.
Yesterday began on a bright note, with both babies pleasant and playful. However, as I prepared lunch, the idyllic morning suddenly slid into chaos. Luke dissolved into tears while I was cooking. He was inconsolable as I placed lunch on the table, so I sat him on my lap to eat; his tears began to fade into the hiccups so familiar after a good, long cry. Of course, Alivia did not want to be left out of this cozy little scene, so she immediately crawled out of her booster seat and onto my lap, too. Attempting to eat a bowl of chowder with a toddler on each knee was a feat. After cleaning up with Luke wrapped around my leg, tears flowing once again, I settled them both on the couch with their pillows, blankets and milk. Finally, they rested – quiet, peaceful and angelic – and I breathed a tired sigh of relief!
One of the most wonderful things about being a grandmother is the perspective from which you view these early years. Mothers of pre-schoolers and babies somehow cannot wrap their minds around the reality that these days will pass – they often feel like time is standing still and the world is passing them by as they give the best of themselves to these needy little children. They cannot begin to picture a life beyond this – a life when these little ones are off to school, off to college, and then independent adults.
Grandmothers, on the other hand, realize how quickly the years pass. I gently stroke their soft hair and trace the line of their chubby cheeks with awe, knowing in my heart that, God willing, in the blink of an eye, these little faces will be adult faces, glowing with pride and love as they present their own precious babies to me. These little hands will then be the ones entrusted with carrying on the nurturing of a new generation.
I spend my days with these children because I believe if they can’t be with their own mothers during the day, where better to be than with a grandmother who loves them beyond words. All of the daily struggles are worth it – the hours of singing and rocking, soothing the tears, refereeing the endless squabbles – they are but an instant in time. Soon these babes will be pulling away from me, out into the wider world of childhood, chasing their own dreams and living their own lives. But they will have known the gentle love and caring of a grandmother to whom they were the most precious of souls, and they will carry that love securely in their hearts as they walk through this life. Who knows, maybe one of these sticky little hands that cling to my finger as we walk along today will someday be the loving hand I hold as I pass from this world.
There is a dailiness in caring for children that can be draining. The physical process of changing diapers, preparing nutritious meals, cleaning the children, the floor and the dishes, picking up toys and books over and over during the day, and lifting, carrying and rocking toddlers is tiring at best.
Yesterday began on a bright note, with both babies pleasant and playful. However, as I prepared lunch, the idyllic morning suddenly slid into chaos. Luke dissolved into tears while I was cooking. He was inconsolable as I placed lunch on the table, so I sat him on my lap to eat; his tears began to fade into the hiccups so familiar after a good, long cry. Of course, Alivia did not want to be left out of this cozy little scene, so she immediately crawled out of her booster seat and onto my lap, too. Attempting to eat a bowl of chowder with a toddler on each knee was a feat. After cleaning up with Luke wrapped around my leg, tears flowing once again, I settled them both on the couch with their pillows, blankets and milk. Finally, they rested – quiet, peaceful and angelic – and I breathed a tired sigh of relief!
One of the most wonderful things about being a grandmother is the perspective from which you view these early years. Mothers of pre-schoolers and babies somehow cannot wrap their minds around the reality that these days will pass – they often feel like time is standing still and the world is passing them by as they give the best of themselves to these needy little children. They cannot begin to picture a life beyond this – a life when these little ones are off to school, off to college, and then independent adults.
Grandmothers, on the other hand, realize how quickly the years pass. I gently stroke their soft hair and trace the line of their chubby cheeks with awe, knowing in my heart that, God willing, in the blink of an eye, these little faces will be adult faces, glowing with pride and love as they present their own precious babies to me. These little hands will then be the ones entrusted with carrying on the nurturing of a new generation.
I spend my days with these children because I believe if they can’t be with their own mothers during the day, where better to be than with a grandmother who loves them beyond words. All of the daily struggles are worth it – the hours of singing and rocking, soothing the tears, refereeing the endless squabbles – they are but an instant in time. Soon these babes will be pulling away from me, out into the wider world of childhood, chasing their own dreams and living their own lives. But they will have known the gentle love and caring of a grandmother to whom they were the most precious of souls, and they will carry that love securely in their hearts as they walk through this life. Who knows, maybe one of these sticky little hands that cling to my finger as we walk along today will someday be the loving hand I hold as I pass from this world.
Friday, September 11, 2009
On the Porch in Rockport
My overwhelming emotion tonight is one of relief and thanksgiving. A phone call from my doctor this morning assured me that a recent biopsy was normal, and my six weeks' of worry over a health issue is finally put to rest.
After my sister's funeral in July, I hoped for a peaceful few weeks of summer to heal and regain my emotional equilibrium. This was not the case. The remainder of summer was filled with extremely difficult times for my entire extended family. Finally, tonight, I feel a sense of peace and hopefulness.
Darkness is falling on a chilly, showery September day. I ponder the events of this summer and know that it will remain in my heart as one of the "worst of times."
Tonight, even though I am so trenedously thankful for my own good health news, I am remembering my sister -- two years ago, in September, we spent a weekend at an inn in Rockport as we visited her husband's family. One of my most wonderful and enduring memories will be the evening she and I spent alone together on the porch of this lovely inn. It was a balmy night for September, with mist and darkness already obscuring the ocean from view, but our conversation was accompanied by the gentle rhythm of the waves coming ashore. We sat in rocking chairs, refilling our glasses of wine as we talked -- feeling peaceful and close to each other. I felt a love and connection that remains with me tonight, on another misty September evening, as I sit alone, but feel once again that wonderful bond.
After my sister's funeral in July, I hoped for a peaceful few weeks of summer to heal and regain my emotional equilibrium. This was not the case. The remainder of summer was filled with extremely difficult times for my entire extended family. Finally, tonight, I feel a sense of peace and hopefulness.
Darkness is falling on a chilly, showery September day. I ponder the events of this summer and know that it will remain in my heart as one of the "worst of times."
Tonight, even though I am so trenedously thankful for my own good health news, I am remembering my sister -- two years ago, in September, we spent a weekend at an inn in Rockport as we visited her husband's family. One of my most wonderful and enduring memories will be the evening she and I spent alone together on the porch of this lovely inn. It was a balmy night for September, with mist and darkness already obscuring the ocean from view, but our conversation was accompanied by the gentle rhythm of the waves coming ashore. We sat in rocking chairs, refilling our glasses of wine as we talked -- feeling peaceful and close to each other. I felt a love and connection that remains with me tonight, on another misty September evening, as I sit alone, but feel once again that wonderful bond.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
A Grateful Good-bye
When John Kennedy was elected President, I was only ten years old – my most vivid memory is of his picture on the front page of the newspaper the day after the election, and at that point I didn’t really have an interest in anything more important than my own daily concerns. I do remember his commanding speech during the Cuban missile crisis, and I shed many tears in the days following his assassination; the drum rolls as the funeral cortege made its way through Washington are a particularly poignant memory. The tragic assassination of Robert Kennedy when I was seventeen troubled me deeply. I cried as I watched this brave family once again bury a beloved son, father and uncle. But I still did not comprehend the impact this family would have on the quality of life for those of us born with less opportunity in this country.
It wasn’t until I was an adult that I truly realized and honored the Kennedy family tradition and belief that those who have been given much owe much in return. This is a family that has been blessed with intelligence, a strong work ethic, a deep faith and a resulting wealth. Obviously, they have struggled with staggering personal tragedies and the quirks and flaws of their own personalities. But, they have all attempted to uphold the family tradition of giving the best of themselves to their family and their country, and especially to those less fortunate.
Tonight, I would like to bid a loving farewell and offer my blessings to Senator Ted Kennedy. My tears flow as I write this. I feel we average citizens have lost our most loyal and dedicated champion. This man has worked unceasingly to make life better for those with the least power and voice in our society. I pray that the next generation of his family will continue the good works they have already begun in the Kennedy name, and take care of each other as he cared for them all. I pray that Congress will work together to craft legislation for a universal health care program that will honor his years of effort in this issue so important to the well-being of us all.
Most of all, I would like to say a loving thank you and good-bye to this youngest son who ended up carrying the torch for this remarkable family who sacrificed so much for the good of society.
It wasn’t until I was an adult that I truly realized and honored the Kennedy family tradition and belief that those who have been given much owe much in return. This is a family that has been blessed with intelligence, a strong work ethic, a deep faith and a resulting wealth. Obviously, they have struggled with staggering personal tragedies and the quirks and flaws of their own personalities. But, they have all attempted to uphold the family tradition of giving the best of themselves to their family and their country, and especially to those less fortunate.
Tonight, I would like to bid a loving farewell and offer my blessings to Senator Ted Kennedy. My tears flow as I write this. I feel we average citizens have lost our most loyal and dedicated champion. This man has worked unceasingly to make life better for those with the least power and voice in our society. I pray that the next generation of his family will continue the good works they have already begun in the Kennedy name, and take care of each other as he cared for them all. I pray that Congress will work together to craft legislation for a universal health care program that will honor his years of effort in this issue so important to the well-being of us all.
Most of all, I would like to say a loving thank you and good-bye to this youngest son who ended up carrying the torch for this remarkable family who sacrificed so much for the good of society.
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