A Lesson on Being Present

For two days now, we have wakened to the sound of rain falling sometimes as a drizzle and other times as a hard rain. Oddly, there is no thunder or lightning with this rain. Yesterday the rain was much heavier and lasted until mid-afternoon. Just in time for Paige and me to make Ming-Ming cupcakes.


She arrived carrying her Thomas the Tank Engine umbrella, a gift I purchased when Thomas came to visit Chattanooga this spring. I bought it and tucked it away to give her at her birthday at the end of May, but forgot about it. We found it hidden in the closet one day and she was just as surprised and pleased, being the great Thomas fan that she is.


Bringing also her backpack, Leapfrog book, two video games, her digital camera, assorted books, workbooks, fake cell phone, doll in a carrier, and a Barbie scooter she asked me to download a recipe she saw on the television early that morning at, and I quote her words, "pbsparents.nickjr.com."


The recipe was for Ming Ming cupcakes from the Wonder Pets show. So with a break in the rain, off we went to the grocery store, list in hand. People followed us around listening to our conversation and one man, a friend from the Lions Club, who worked at the store helped us find all the strange ingredients that probably any mother of a young child would know, but to me were alien foods.


Other than mixing the cake with the hand-mixer (because she hates loud noises), Paige made the cupcakes. After cooling she iced them with the colored icing and then decorated them to look like Ming Ming. (I had to melt the candies in the microwave and then shape them as the pattern suggested.) But Paige did all the work. I was happy to get 6 of the 18 cupcakes decorated considering the detail undertaking that it became.


But what fun we had! I at the sink cleaning the pans and mess up, she licking the spoon in the bowl of leftover cake mix and said, "Umm. Mimi...guess what I did?" I turned to see she had put both hands in the mix and was stirring it with her fingers. I said it looked like we wouldn't be using the rest of the mix after all.

In the end, she sorted them out equally giving some to her Uncle Jason and Aunt Laura, one to her grandfather, Mark, and one each for her Mommy, Daddy (who she insisted was going to grease his cupcake), and one for herself. (None for me, she knew, because Mimi's always on a diet! And Uncle B doesn't eat sweets.) And so proud she insisted her Mommy eat hers when she came to pick her up after work. And what a kind and loving mother my daughter-in-law was to eat a delicious cupcake covered in icing, tootsie rolls, m & m's, starburst, and fruit rolls.


And to see Paige's face when she showed off the final Ming Mings! It was worth a thousand pictures. But here is one.



Today, she is back with me sharing the day with her cousin Hayden. Happy and healthy once more, Hayden has been sleeping more than awake, but they did have a good time playing this morning. Hayden loves his cousin Paige and can't take his eyes off her when she is in the room, but I managed to get a few pictures before he went down for his second nap.
Tomorrow we head for Charlotte to visit Little Lexi Lou Lou. I plan to come home with some great pictures and some great stories to remember.


Someone asked me what I did this summer and I answered nothing much, just took care of the grandkids.....NOTHING MUCH??? What was I thinking? I am one lucky woman and I shall not forget it!


I thank God every day for bringing my grandchildren into my life! What a blessing!

Let's Go Shopping

What girl does not like to shop? Not many I venture to guess. However, shopping with a four year-old can be a challenge and yet her mother and other grandmother and I decided to go for it.

It helped that we had a great reason to shop - my other daughter-in-law, Laura's birthday is this week and we asked my son, Jason to do the impossible, come up with some ideas. Instead he asked her and emailed us a list. Very business-like of him, but also a very kind thing to do with his busy schedule so we were grateful. Unfortunately, we forgot to print the list out and bring it with us so we had only our memories to recall what Laura wanted.

We decided to meet after a birthday party they were all attending. I was waiting at the downtown Grapevine where they picked me up. We then drove to Chickamauga, GA , one of my daughter-in-law's favorite places to shop. And since she was out in California with my son and their baby visiting her family, there was no chance we'd run into her.

Unfortunately, although the birthday party was a big hit with the four year-olds who were fed something for lunch, the grown-ups were not and so my daughter-in-law and her mother arrived starving. Our first stop was a quaint little cafe directly across the street from the Gordon Lee Mansion.

The cafe had only been open one week but the food was great. Although I had already eaten my lunch, I could not pass up the fried green tomatoes. While eating we took a few pictures.

The is a picture of Grandma, Paige and Mimi (me):

The second is a picture of Grandma and Paige:


And the last was taken BY Paige of Mommy and Mimi:



We had a lot of fun going into two shops and picking out some great gifts for Laura. Paige was a trooper the whole time and it was such a joy to see three generations having such a good time together.

But the heat of the day got to us and so we loaded up the trunk with our gifts and piled into the car, Paige in her car seat with Mimi beside her in the backseat and Grandma in the front seat with Mommy. As we drove through the winding tree-shaded streets of this historical town, Paige asked her Mommy one last question:

"Are we shopping any place else Mommy? Because if we are I'll just be exhausted." And within a few minutes her elbow resting on the arm piece and chin resting on her hand she fell into a deep sleep and never even saw her two grandmothers leave the car a little later.

It was a fun, happy and good weekend thanks to a special day with my granddaughter Paige, my daughter-in-law Debbie and her precious mother Gil.

God is Good!

Mindfulness

I have come to really appreciate this word - mindfulness. It says, to me, much more than what it means; "Inclined to be aware," according to the dictionary. For me it is a state of being and it takes practice and discipline. But most importantly it takes the courage to listen to God.

The courage is NOT in listening to God; the courage is in responding to the messages we get from God. What does that still small voice inside tell you? For me it is to be mindful to things I see, hear, smell, and experience on a daily basis.

When I was a young girl growing up I talked to God on a regular basis. If I had a problem I would bring it to God, release it and wait for a response. Not an answer, but a feeling that the problem was solved. Sometimes it wasn't the response I expected but I accepted the answer because I asked and God answered. Much fiction has been written using this form of talking to God - George Baily in It's a Wonderful Life and The Bishop's Wife to name a few well-known movies.

People don't usually go around telling other people that they talk to God. Back in its early days the TV show Seventh Heaven told a story of a school janitor who told people that he talked to God (and that God talked to him). It took courage for him to admit it to a crowd of angry school board members and parents. And when the main character who is minister at a local church stood up to defend the janitor he pointed out the injustice in thinking the janitor was crazy while it was okay for him to talk to God because he was in the "God" business. He was successful in delaying the board from firing the janitor only to learn that the police found the janitor in the middle of the night painting the bleachers at the football field. While doing so the bleachers collapsed.

Angry and ready to arrest the man, the police pointed out that if he had not been there that night working on the bleachers then they would have collapsed the next day during the football game and there would have been lots of injuries. The janitor said God told him to go there that night and instead of thinking he was crazy, the school board thanked him and welcomed him back into their open arms.

Being mindful, does mean being receptive to hearing God's messages; but it is so much more. It is hearing those messages in a beautiful poem a dear friend sends me, a touch of my grandbaby's hand on my cheek, a hug from my sweet husband, hearing a song that lifts my spirits, taking a walk at dusk with my granddaughter, seeing my daughter and her family on my computer camera, sharing a good meal with my family, seeing the sun rise between the trees like diamonds sparkling, and so on and so on....

God is everywhere and present and being mindful of this strengthens me and gives me the courage to listen to the still small voice that speaks to me and most importantly to act on what I hear.

Send in the Clowns

The grandbaby arrived early, hungry and with a bad cold. He was tired because the cold kept him from sleeping well the night before. Normally the happiest baby offering his Mimi great big smiles, he just looked at us as if to say, "help." My son, hugged and kissed him goodbye and I assured him all would be fine. My daughter-in-law called from work and I assured her that all would be fine.

But as the morning wore on it was clear this little five-month-old was not feeling well and so we walked the house, rocked on the back porch, sang songs, and he tried to drink his bottle. But it hurt too much. And just as I was beginning to feel like I was failing him I got two emails that lifted my spirit and assured me that all would be fine.

The first was from a dear friend who reminded me that what I do for my grandbaby is of immeasurable value. The second was from a fellow writer who epitomizes the definition of "super woman" and yet she complimented me by saying that I was amazing and must have traveled in the circus at some time in my life because I was so good at juggling all the things I do.

Reading these two emails put things in perspective. First I was reminded that one of the biggest challenges I have is applying my spiritual practice into my daily life. So I relaxed and rested in the knowledge that my dear husband has rearranged the work schedule so I can have the luxury of staying at home with my grandchildren. My sons and their wives have given me a wonderful gift, a chance to spend a portion of time with my grandchildren. What a blessing!

As far as traveling in a circus - that is true if only in a spiritual sense. About twenty years ago a friend and I took an all day workshop on clown ministry. At the end of the day we were trained in how to completely transform ourselves into a clown including full make-up. We both agreed to be silent clowns and found a way to introduce ourselves to the congregation at our Presbyterian church. It being Pentecost, we conspired with the minister, and with his approval, and we being ordained elders, presented the bread and wine for communion that Sunday morning - in full clown attire!

The congregation had been given balloons as they entered the sanctuary and the minister invited them to release their balloon during the service when they felt moved or touched by the Spirit of God. And so throughout the service balloons floated up to the ceiling until there was a cloud of color, not unlike a rainbow, covering the sanctuary. And then expecting the line of elders to march in, the people were very surprised to see two clowns come in with boxes wrapped in colorful paper. My friend and I quietly placed the boxes on the altar and turned and ran out of the sanctuary. The sermon was on looking at life from a different perspective.

The whole experience was rewarding, well-accepted and life-changing for me. It wasn't until the end of the day after the church picnic that fellow members knew who the two clowns were. Being a Clown for God, may have seemed irreverent to some, but for us it was as if God was there having as much fun as us - quietly spreading joy and love throughout the day.

Being a good grandmother and juggling my time between all of my responsibilities may seem daunting at times, but I can remember to be like the Clown of God and do so with joy and love and doing so will help me to keep my spiritual practices in my daily life.

Life is a Gift

Sunday afternoon turned cool with temperatures dropping into the high sixties. And considering the fact that it is mid-July, it was quite comfortable if not a little dis-settling. After picking a batch of purple hull crowder peas, tying up some tomato plants, and picking a few weeds all in the garden on the patio, my husband challenged me to a game of Scrabble.

The kids gave us a new board for Christmas, one that spins and stores everything in hidden drawers under the board, and it is one of the few board games we enjoy playing. We both had some great words; filled the board completely with less than three letters each at the end. But as usual my husband won. (Hint: don't play with an accountant and expect to win. I think they actually count the letters!) Me, I have to keep glancing at the cheat sheet to see how many A's are left and what my chances are in getting a U to go with the Q that I've had forever. I still have to use a cheat sheet when I play poker because I can't remember what's better two pair or three of a kind. (It doesn't stop me from being a pretty good poker player.)

We decided homemade black-eyed pea salsa (hoppin' jack) and chips along with beer and some Two Buck Chuck wine from Trader Joe's in Atlanta would make for a great dinner which we could enjoy while playing our game.

Somewhere in time, about three fourths of the way through the game we decided to have philosophical discussion on death. My husband always feared he'd follow his father and die in his mid-fifties of a heart attack. He passed that mark and has no clue when he'll die (like most of us.) His mother died in her seventies like my father both of what I like to call "old age." My mark is to live past my mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother who all died around 63 of cancer (or consumption.) Does this mean I have only a few years left to live? Or will I too die of "old age?" Of course we could both be hit by a car today and solve the mystery.

The point of our discussion was not what happens when one dies but the effect death has on the ones left. In the case of his father and my mother, both died without any warning and so we were never able to say "goodbye" or prepare ourselves for their death. My husband watched the paramedics try to revive his father while I got a long-distance call from my sister telling me our mother died in her sleep and we didn't even know she was sick.

Tragic yes, but so are buildings being attacked by terrorist, plane crashes and war. In the grand scheme of things, there is consolation that our parents didn't suffer and they didn't have to grow old and suffer from all the debilitating, embarrassing and sad life the slow death of old age can be.

But as the game winded down and the beer and wine started to run out, we settled on the one death that impacted us the most - the loss of our dog Speck. Okay you can laugh, but it is true. For fourteen years he was the one constant in our life. He loved us and we him and when he died a few years ago, even the kids struggled to come to our house knowing their precious pet was gone.

We buried him before dawn one morning wrapped in my old pink satin robe that he loved. It was a very cold February and the ground was iced over and crackled when my husband was digging the grave. We placed him in the grave with one of his favorite tennis balls and covered him with rich dirt, pine needles, and said a prayer thanking God for his life.

Remembering that day brought tears to both of our eyes and the game of Scrabble was over anyway so we closed up the board and continued to cry but this time for not only our dog, but our parents and our friends who have died. It was good to set them free and release them, but not from our hearts where they will always remain.

I'm not sure if there is a moral to this story; that Scrabble, beer and cheap wine mix with a discussion of death but for us it worked. The point is to live each day as if it is your last - no regrets. (I don't mean live irresponsibly but live with conviction and purpose.) Be the person you are supposed to be glad in it.

Life is a gift from God - cherish it!

A Little Bite in Life

Yesterday, my daughter sent me a frantic text message on my cell phone. Her baby girl had bitten another child at daycare! My daughter was horrified. At almost fifteen months, my granddaughter does not know what she did nor the consequences of her action. She is still a baby!

And although the caregivers at the daycare assured my daughter that the other child was fine and they had explained to her daughter that this was not acceptable, the person who needed the most comfort and assurance was my daughter. Knowing this I called her only to hear her embarrassment and concern for her daughter's actions.

It reminded me of a similar incident that occurred thirty-five years ago when my oldest son was the recipient of many a bite from the little girl that lived across the street. Unlike my granddaughter who is very young, my son was three years old and so was his friend. He complained to me often about the biting and I tried to get the child to stop when she was at my house playing, but it was to no avail.

But the worst part was that as a young mother, I had not developed good parenting skills and so kept asking my sweet little boy what he had done to make this other child bite him. When one day I looked into his crystal blue eyes and saw the tears on his face and heard him, really heard him, say, "I didn't do nothing Mommy."

I immediately took action and told the other child's mother what had been going on and although she was horrified I could see that she too felt my son had brought it on himself and there wasn't much she could do about it. Then one day we were sitting in my living room enjoying a cup of coffee and waiting for my newborn baby to wake up. He was asleep in his room and the two three-year-olds were playing in my son's room. Or so we thought.

A piercing scream from the nursery made the two of us run only to find my newborn baby screaming in his bed and on one of his arms was the impression of a full set of teeth made by my neighbor's daughter. There was no blood but deep red marks. And while I picked up the baby to comfort him, I heard more screams, this time from the little girl who's mother was biting her arm like it was a chicken leg. I know it sounds funny and in an odd way it was, but that child never bit my son or anybody else again the rest of her life.

I spent the rest of the afternoon comforting my friend who was horrified at her daughter's actions but in the end, we smiled and laughed and realized we'd each grown up a little that day.

And that is what is happening with my daughter. Being a parent is an on-going process and her children are going to do things their entire life that will encompass a multitude of reactions. This is only the beginning but one day her little daughter will be grown up and a mother and is going to send her a text (or whatever communication is in the future) and my daughter will be ready to help her just as I hope I am there for my daughter now.

And on a side note: In addition to texting me with her daughter's actions, my daughter also sent a text to her two brothers. (The three-year-old and newborn in the above story). Both did their best to comfort their sister by making her laugh, a true gift they both have proving a little bite in life is not going to hurt.

The Hands of God

"I am the hands by which God touches another life." These words written by Colleen Zuck are an inspiration because they remind me that I am needed and important to God. And I am therefore called to live in a way that expresses my divine nature. This means being loving, compassionate and kind to others including myself.

I decided to take a literal look at my hands. I have thin bony fingers which my mother thought should play the piano. But they are not long, barely reaching an octave when stretched across the key board. This didn't stop me from taking lessons as a child and pretending I can still play now and then. The other day I filed and painted my nails and my granddaughter, Paige said, "I like your pretty nails Mimi." Not only did I love the compliment, but it reminded me of the many times I saw my own grandmother soak her hands; massage with cream; file and then paint her nails night after night. It was a ritual I was proud to witness.

The skin across my hands is wrinkled but this is nothing new - they have been wrinkled my whole life. My freckles are still visible; a trait passed down from the Irish side of my family. I find that when I am not typing, cooking, washing dishes, holding a grandchild's hand, or feeding them a bottle, or the many other tasks that are part of my day, I clasp my hands in my lap with the fingers intertwined. At night when I sleep they are together resting on my cheek.

Like most people I take my hands for granted and so to stop and look at them in a spiritual sense, not as a useful tool for my daily life, but as the hands of God touching another life, then all the daily chores don't seem so ordinary. Instead they are extraordinary!

And then I realized, I may need my hands to do the physical things I mentioned, but I don't need them to be God's hands. All I need is the desire to be the person God wants me to be. Now each time I show compassion, kindness, and love to another person (and to myself) I know that it is God doing these things through me.

To fulfill my divine purpose; to be the hands of God that touches another life - what an honor; a privilege; and gift! But even more great is doing so without thinking about it; to have it come natural without trying; just being as God intends us to be.

Life is good!