Stages

No one told me about this stage in life.  The one where your heart kind of swells with pride, practically explodes with love, and then also breaks slowly all at the same time.  No one talks about that. The stage when your children start moving from the “Mom, hug me! Hold me!” Stage, to the “I need my space.”

When I first got pregnant, I heard all about the morning sickness possibilities.  I was given advice about making sure to walk a lot and the right things to eat and foods to avoid.  So I prepared and I planned. Finally the moment comes and I am given this absolutely perfect baby in my arms.  My life before that moment was completely forgotten. Nothing else mattered looking into those eyes.

The advice follows me with the birth of my babes.   A longer list of do’s and don'ts. With every stage of the younger years, terrible two’s, potty training, starting school, I heard advice.  Everyone had opinions, and in a way it made me feel better because it helped navigate my uncharted ocean. I could always see land, so I was grounded even when the seas got rocky.  No one told me though, about the letting go bit. No one told me about what to do when my kids start growing up and maybe don’t need me quite as much as they used to. No one warned me about that mix of emotions.  The hurt for myself, excitement for them and pride in them. Maybe because it’s different for everyone. Or maybe because it’s truly hard to explain all the emotion or give advice for this stage. You just have to experience it.  

The closing of the school year, floods our facebook pages with graduation caps and gowns.  Faces of proud mommas and daddy’s, and hope in the eyes of their children. Little ones moving from the pond of elementary school diving into a new place with much bigger fish.  Lots of firsts come with the closing of one chapter and the beginning of another. As a parent, it’s blessing to be a part of every stage. It’s been an even bigger blessing to have a team of people stand by you when any amount of words or advice doesn’t really help.

As my son enters high school next year, and my daughter middle school, I feel a mixture of emotions.  These are uncharted waters. I no longer truly control the direction of the boat. I now have two co-captains with opinions and dreams, and they to want to sail their own boat.  They have their own path to explore and conquer. I will be okay to sail beside them. Maybe even sometimes behind them. I have no other choice. They know I will be there when they need me, just like I know I have people to pick me up when I’m struggling, or a friendly ear for listening.  The sea is too big to handle alone after all.

~Esmeralda

On Becoming Grandparents by Andrea

On October 12, my husband and I became grandparents for the very first time. Here are just a few of the feelings I can put into words.

*I wish I could adequately express what it was like to see my own grandchild for the first time. 
     Kai made his arrival lighting quick.  At 10:47 pm, we got a call from my son to "leave the house because IT is going down NOW!" I let out a little loud cheer then gingerly (shoulder surgery kept me from charging) climbed the stairs to deliver the news and to hasten my hubby's preparations. We thought we would have time to shower and take a quick nap before driving the hour and forty-five minutes from Cedar Park to San Antonio.
    King Kai, as our son refers to him, had other royal plans and summoned all of his loyal subjects together suddenly.  By 11:11 pm, Daddy Damien had called back. Excitedly but distractedly he yelled into the phone, "He's here!  He's here!" before breathlessly uttering some words about needing to be by his wife's side and hanging up the phone.  I was thrilled she was well and proud that he knew she needed to be his priority.  A knot started to form in my throat as I let the words 'he's here!' sink in.  I yelled upstairs to make the pronouncement of the his majesty's arrival.  The thought "We are now Noni and Pop" filled my mind as my heart tried to fully comprehend the enormity of it all.
     I looked down at my cell phone screen a few seconds later, and there appeared our newest pride and joy.  Our little prince came in at a whopping 8 lbs 7 oz., 21.5 inches long. And he looked every bit of it with his mouth gaped open in a wail, the sweet sound that every obstetrician and new parent longs to hear.
    And I wept.  Soft, steady, sweet tears. Every joy, every hope, every prayer dripped from my eyes as I took in every aspect of him, another miracle born into our family.  Oh, to live that feeling over and over again.

Our first photo of the big guy!

*Holding my grandson for the first time was a lot like holding his father for the first time, but also a lot different.
     Readers, if you will recall from a previous writing about my life, I told you Damien came to me when I was 16 years old.  Despite my youth, I fully understood and appreciated the beauty and responsibility which were part and parcel of being a new mom.  I held him with fierce devotion and adoration while denying feelings of overwhelming insecurity as the automatic recognition of the enormity of the task of bringing up another human being washed over me.  At once, I was awed and afraid.
     With Kai, I did not feel the insecurity.  Humility swept over me as, subconsciously, I realized how privileged we are to have a chance at life with this little person.  Love showered my heart and soul as an infinite number of hopes and dreams seem to converge on his sleeping face.  Yet, I felt no fear or doubt as I held him.  Maybe this is the secret of grand-parenting versus parenting.  We have brought up a human being who is more than capable of bringing up another.  In this I find comfort and peace. I get to enjoy, not fret (at least not over the same things as his parents). I get to devote my time and attention fully to him, not to all the fears and what ifs that come with parenting for the first time.  Mostly because, I know in end he will turn out just fine because I know who his parents are.

*I always knew my son would make a great father.
      Because of the adoration and respect he has for his wife, I knew she would be a great mother. Watching them with Kai during the first day of his life brought such pride.  They may not feel completely confident and sure, but they are acting the part quite well.  They have made decisions for Kai's best interest with focus and certainty as if they'd been caring for him for years.  They know him already.  They can already speak of his likes and needs.  Damien has 5 younger siblings and scores of cousins and play cousins.  He has spent years inadvertently preparing for this time.  But the rubber meets the road when its your child.  He is embracing his all-important ocean of responsibility with grace and confidence that comes from one who has prayed for his child.  Our grand-baby is in expert hands. I tell my son, "A lot of people know a lot of things about babies, but you are the one who knows everything about your baby.  Pray, then trust yourself."

Enough

 She exhales it like the rest of us exhale carbon dioxide.  She breathes it out to the world.  Offering it through her smiles, her kind words, her sweet gestures.  It's so natural for her this thing called love.  She sees the best in people, and only chooses to believe the sun shines even when she can't feel it on her carmel colored face. The day she was born and they handed her to me, I cried. One tiny tear, for the precious gift I knew I held tightly in my arms.  When she opened her emerald eyes in my direction, my breath caught, and I prayed.  I said a prayer of thanksgiving, but also one of guidance.  I was going to need God's help, I knew, to raise this tiny princess.  7 years later, I pray harder for my tender-hearted beauty.  

One day this past year, she was unusally quiet on the drive home.  Very out of character for my chatty daughter, especailly after a full day of first grade.  I noticed her gripping something very tightly in her hand, but I decided to wait it out and give her a chance to talk to me when she was ready.  Sure enough before we got home she began to open up.  What I heard broke my heart for my little girl.  She explained that she had no one to sit with at lunch because her best friends were mad at her.  Her little heart had developed a crush on a very sweet little boy, and they had become very good friends.  Problem was her friends wanted her to sit with them at lunch and play with them at recess, but so did this little boy.  She didn't know what to do, she told me through tears, and both parties ended up mad at her.  What she held so dearly in her hand was a letter to this little boy who was special to her, asking him to please not be mad at her. Apologizing over and over again throughout the letter. It took every ounce of energy to not let my past experiences affect what I said to my vulnerable daugther.  So I took a moment, and prayed. 

We talked about how she had done nothing wrong and did not need to apologize.  We discussed that being in the middle of a situation like this wasn't easy and it wasn't fun, but it also wasn't going to be the last time it would happen.  She understood that it was okay to be her, and any decision she made would be okay because she cared about all of her friends. The next day she came home, like herself.  Chatty, happy, and relaxed.  She talked with her friends, including the little boy, and shared how she had felt.  They communicated better than some adults based on her version of events, and decided to all sit together and play together.  No separation needed.  Joy ruled our car ride home again.  Crisis averted.  First of many I am sure.  

Yes, I still pray for my daughter.  And I will continue to pray for her.  I pray that the world doesn't harden her heart.  I pray that she always sees the good in people even when its buried deep down inside them and it's

hard to notice.  Mostly I pray that she will know her worth and how valuable she is.  That she doesn't have to apologize for being who she is or what she feels.  I pray that she will love regardless of what anyone else says or does.  Because she is so special.  So loved.  And so valuable.

-Esmer

Talking and Listening Long by Andrea

My Granny Sis

I remember the day I first realized that my grandmother was “old”.  She was turning 60 as I was going on 10.  Being old meant she could die.  Dying meant we would not be together as we had been every day of my life it seemed. I worked myself into a frenzy of fears and tears as I contemplated this truth.  I cried so much my eyes were raw.  Just a hazy, incomplete thought of her leaving me could send me over the edge- well into adulthood.  It was that day, I’m sure, that I began to pray that God would be gracious enough to allow me to die before her.  I envisioned us having many, many years together, but that I would never have to live without her. I was completely unable to imagine a life without her unconditional love, devotion and friendship.  Only now, can the realizations that she is getting older and as she says, “her time on this earth may not be long more” come to me without me being filled despair and dread. 

My grandmother has been one of my very best friends for my entire life.  As a child, I lived to spend my days with her: raking the yard, pulling weeds from her flowerbeds, going fishing, tying the strings on her rag quilts, roasting sweet potatoes and shucking corn. In all those times, I talked and she listened.  I talked about the important things of my little life, my wonderings, and my dreams.  She talked and I listened. I knew stories of her childhood and life as though they were my own.

Even as a boy-crazy, freedom- chasing, know-it-all teenager, I loved getting to spend nights at my grandparents’ house while my mother worked.  We would stay up late and watch her shows, eating sweets and shelling peas or beans.  I talked and she listened.  She talked and I listened.  At a time in life when there can be distance and secrets, I knew her and she knew me.

I went a way to college, but I called her all the time- to get my fill of her colloquialisms and the neighborhood happenings.  I talked and she listened.  She talked and I listened. She knew how to wait to hear not only my highs, but also my lows. I knew she would always have time and wise, guiding words for me.

As a young wife and mother, I would drop my son off at school, drive the two hours to my hometown just to spend a couple of hours with her before heading back to pick up my son at the end of school day.  I would talk and she would listen.  She would talk and I would listen.  She seemed to always know what I needed and she freely gave.  What she knew, I knew.

Always joyful and laughing!

Up to this day, when I go back home for a visit, I go to my granny’s house first.  When I make my weekly calls, I call her first.  My mother does not feel shunned or slighted.  She is a grandmother.  She gets the devotion and the connection. 

Here's my granny sleeping at my house in TX.

My granny is old now but still vibrant and full of life.  She is in good health and sound mind. When I phone her, she talks and I listen.  I talk and she listens. I can only visit two or three times a year since moving over 1300 miles away. The absolute highlight of my life happened last year when, at almost a century old, my grandmother got onto an airplane for the FIRST.TIME.EVER to surprise me with a visit.  In my home, in Texas, my granny talked and I listened.  I talked and she listened.  As we have done my whole life. 

There is not one day that goes by that I do not pray for, speak of or quote my grandmother.  Our connection has been built over a lifetime, with many words, fierce love and treasured devotion.  It does not matter which of us gets to go to heaven first.  I just hope that there will be a place for us to talk and listen long.

Love and Commitment by Carolyn

One of the most difficult - and most valuable - lessons I learned in my adult life is that love is an action verb. During one of the times I was not feeling much love for my late husband, I read in a Bible study that love is not a feeling, it is an action. That the times when "that loving feeling" is not present are the times that it is most important to behave in a way that shows love. That seems counter-intuitive to our modern society which prescribes that if the feeling of love has gone, or if your spouse is not making you completely and totally happy, or if your life together is not easy, you should cut your losses and end your union. I once subscribed to that way of thinking and ended my first marriage without much thought to the commitment I had made. I was determined not to give up so easily the second time. So I was willing to try the idea that I should act as if I loved my husband in spite of how difficult it had become and see what happened. I won't go into the details here, but suffice it to say that when I acted as if I loved him the feeling of love returned, stronger than ever. That feeling of love brought on by my actions of love enabled me to live out my commitment to him through some very difficult circumstances. That feeling of love now allows me to look back on the last months of our marriage with the knowledge that, at least in the end, I lived up to my vows of "for better or worse, in sickness and in health."

This week I have seen the idea that love is an action verb come to life again. My sister's husband has been very ill for a while. Through his illness, my sister has devoted herself to caring for him completely. She has fought his battles, endured unpleasant situations, and ministered to his needs unselfishly. His wish was to see the end of his life at home rather than in a hospital. She made that possible for him. In the last few days I have had the privilege of seeing my matter-of-fact, no-nonsense sister caring for her dying husband in ways that she would never have dreamed she would have to do, and doing it with love and tenderness. Her love for him was spoken more clearly in her actions than it could ever be in any words. She has demonstrated her commitment to him and their 33-year marriage by her tender, ferocious care of him even in these worst of times. Throughout their life together, and especially at the end, she lived up to her vows of "for better or worse, in sickness and in health".

That is what love is - not a feeling, but a commitment to action.

-Carolyn