Category Archives: new life

babies, joy, living and growing, new life

Contagious Joy

What is it about babies that enthralls us?

Why is it, when a stranger walks by with a new baby, we crane our neck to catch a glimpse of it?

How do they have the power to make a smile appear on our faces without us even realizing it?

How do they manage to turn even the grumpiest of humans into a ball of putty in their hands?

I watch my grandson two days a week. Today was one of those days. I woke up and found myself a bit off. I was feeling disgruntled at the world for no particular reason. Yet I knew, or at least suspected, that time with my grandson would fix that. Would fix me.

How do babies do that? Is it their newness to this world? Could they, who just a short time ago were a part of the miracle of creation, refresh our spirits just by the marvel of their very existence?

It seems they can.

This power to transform those around them, isn’t limited to my grandson. All babies have this power. It seems everyone wants to see a new baby. It’s as if by just catching a glimpse at one, some of that newness will rub off on us.

None of us can remember being that small, yet we all were. Perhaps by seeing a new baby and even more so when we get to hold a new little baby, we are brought back to that time when we ourselves had been freshly created.

Babies seem to subconsciously remind us of the endless possibilities that we each came into this world with.

When a baby smiles, their joy is contagious. We want to ‘catch’ what they have. A sense of wonder. An appreciation for the little things. An understanding for the need for what is important. Human touch. Human love.

When my grandson woke up this morning, I had the privilege to be the one to go in and get him up. His surprise upon seeing me and the smile that lit up his face was indeed catchy. My morning grumpiness dissolved and did not resurface for the rest of the day.

Babies are good medicine. Their smiles and laughter are infectious and spark smiles and laughter within us. Their peaceful countenance while sleeping exudes a peace we all long for. They meet each day with an awe and curiosity that when observed, stirs our spirits.

Babies come with a contagious joy, transmittable by sight alone. How lucky we are when we catch it!

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grandparenting, living and growing, Love, new life, perspective

Mine Not Mine

It had been 23 years.

23 years since I last held a baby that was only hours old. People don’t seem to often talk about what it’s like…the moment you become a grandparent. When people hear you are going to become a grandparent, they smile a soft sort of smile and tell you, “there’s nothing like it!”.

But nobody mentioned how I might feel when I first held him in my arms. I found it to be surreal. Wonderful…and very confusing. This baby was not mine, but also somehow a part of me. As I held him, I looked over at my daughter lying in the hospital bed and my son-in-law standing beside her and I knew this baby was theirs. But the last time I had held a baby that had just been born, it was my own. Five times I held my own newborn babies and now fast forward 23 years and I was holding this little person. And he was both my own and not my own.

Holding him ignited something inside of me. Something I hadn’t felt since my last child was born. A fierce mother bear feeling bursting with a love so strong that it made me want to protect him. But he wasn’t mine to protect. Not in that mother bear sort of way at least. I was going to need to learn a new way to love and protect. A softer way. A grandmotherly way.

For the first couple of months every time I held him, I would remind myself he wasn’t mine. In case this sounds crazy, let me clarify. I knew he wasn’t mine. I did not long for him to be mine. But having raised five kids, I was familiar with one role. The role of mother. I was proficient at mothering. Mothering was a role I had lots of practice in and when that little baby was in my arms, the instinct was to mother him.

But he was mine, not mine.

He had a mom and a dad, both of whom were doing a great job. So what was my job?

I had heard of some of the grandmother job requirements….at least the stereotypes. Look matronly, wear an apron, bake cookies. Be soft, safe and comforting. Grey hair up in a bun on the top of my head. The list goes on. But much of that list was more a caricature of a grandparent than the real thing.

I had also heard things grandparents said about grandparenting. Things like: ‘It’s a second chance!’ ‘It’s like parenting but without the same stress and you get to send them home at the end of a visit!’ ‘You get to spoil them!’ And although I liked some of those ideas, they still didn’t really help me figure out what my role was supposed to be. Each time I held him, I reflected on my new title of grandmother and the role that came with it.

I would think things like: I am a grandmother to a grandson. Hmmm. Boys can be a handful. What do boys need? I had a great example with my own mom. My oldest son could be a handful when he was young. His antics would get his grandfather and uncles annoyed. But often as we were leaving their house, my mother would stop him at the front door, take his face in her hands, say his name and then tell him, “You’re a good boy!” She wasn’t negating all the annoying things he had done. She was reminding him that she saw the goodness in him too. She knew he was much more than the sum of his annoying antics. And she reminded him of what she saw in him every chance she got. That’s the kind of grandmother I want to be. I want to be there to remind him of his value. Even in those times both when he devalues himself and when the world sends him messages that could try to rob him of his value.

He’s nearly 7 months old now. I no longer struggle with my role. I’ve come to appreciate the mine, not mine status. There is a truth to it. He is mine, in that he is my grandson. He is both an extension of my husband and myself and someone new created by my daughter and her husband; he is theirs. These connections give me my status. He and I are connected, forever grandmother and grandson.

When I spend time with him I am filled with awe and wonder. It’s the same awe and wonder I felt with my own children. But I am no longer striving to raise a family. I’m able to enjoy him without the pressure of the daily responsibilities for him. It doesn’t mean I don’t worry for him. I know the world my own kids had to navigate as they grew. He will face those things as well. I hope I am able to be around for a long time, making sure that he knows he’s a good boy. As his grandmother, I see it already and I will never let him forget.

So I’m writing my own Grandmother job description. A description that includes seeing him through eyes of awe and wonder. Appreciating him and showing and telling him that his grandmother loves him. And maybe someday, the requirements might include baking cookies and my hair turning gray. But for now I’ll be content with being amazed by each new thing he does. To be a soft, safe place might just be the greatest gift I could give my grandson and any future grandchildren that come along.

The distinction of him being mine and not mine may continue to surface from time to time. But I am settling in quite happily to my new role. And like seasoned grandparents had promised, there is indeed, nothing like it!

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change, childhood, comfort, death, Discovery, dying, enlightenment, families, grieving, healing, home, letting go, living and growing, mourning, moving on, new life, struggles

“And even in our sleep….”

Have you ever noticed that when things happen in life…graduations, births, deaths, moving….they never seem to happen one at a time? That’s been true for me, at least.  Big life events are crowded into a small time period, often with more than one big thing happening at once.

Processing gets lost in these times. That’s where sleep comes in – assuming you can sleep. Our dreams take over when our waking days fail us. At night, when all is quiet, our thoughts are exposed while dreaming.

And so it has been for me.

I heard a quote recently, that was new to me. It spoke to this experience of pain exposing itself while we sleep.

The poet Aeschylus said, “And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God.”

And so this season has been just that. Awake, I function.  I laugh.  I enjoy.  I work. In sleep though, that which can no longer be ignored, demands it’s own time.

In sleep, I weep.

The last three months have been so full.  My youngest daughter graduated college. I moved my mother into an assisted living and along with that I have begun the process of dealing with my childhood home. The reality of my mom being gone from my life, some day soon, rests on the horizon. One of my daughter’s will be getting married in less than a year. She will move out and begin a new life. There is plenty to keep me busy.

Looking ahead, In the fall I will begin to work three days a week. I have done two days for the last two years but three feels like a big increase. I will still be caring for my mom…still working….still planning a wedding…still running a household…still being a wife, mom, friend…you get the idea.

But honestly, during the day, I tell myself everyone has to do this kind of stuff, everyone has these experiences….it’s just life. Deal with it. And I do.

But my dreams speak to feelings too deep to express in the light of day. Sadness, weariness, and fear. And loss. Both real and imagined.

Last night’s dream found me in my parent’s house. Lately this is the new backdrop for all my dreams. Realtors were emptying out the house. I had spent two weeks right outside the house, with my mother. I did not want to go inside. But finally I did and I saw that it was almost done. Furniture was being moved out, everything was sold. And I laid down on a grassy area (yes, inside the house!) and sobbed. Curled up into myself, I couldn’t stop sobbing. Realtors tried to talk to me. They offered me already sold pieces of furniture to try and get me to stop crying. I looked at the items but I recognized none of it. I tried to find my childhood bedroom but the entire house was foreign to me. And this made me weep more. Finally, I decided I must stop crying. I stood up, wiped my eyes and left.

Last week’s dream was the same. In their house again but it was Christmas Eve. But not like I remembered Christmas Eve’s to be….this one was complicated, uncomfortable and again, involved crying.

And so it goes.

I know many go through losing parents and perhaps even childhood homes. I know they survive it. But still my heart worries….

I will learn from it. I will get through it and I’m counting on that grace from God that the poet mentioned. And I know that when my mom does die, that my waking world and my sleeping world will merge. The pain will no longer be contained within dreams.

But for now, I’m grateful for the sleeping world as it does its work at opening my heart to the wisdom and grace that change and loss produce. Even in our sleep.

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appreciation, change, clarity and direction, comfort, death, dying, enlightenment, eternal life, families, honesty, hope, letting go, living and growing, Love, mourning, new life, peace, perspective, spiritual growth, struggles

Living in the Valley

I moved to the valley, eleven years ago when my father first got sick.  Six years ago, he died.  I thought at some point after his death I would move out of the valley.  Instead, my mother, after years of caring for my Dad, got sick and my life in the valley continued.

You probably know this valley.  It’s the same one mentioned in Psalm 23….”Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.”  Yeah, that valley.

I chose to move here years before I understood where I was moving to.  Back when I was young and had no idea of what it would cost me. I knew I wanted to stay in the same city as my parents.  My plan always was to care for them, when the time came.

The funny thing about moving to the valley is that you don’t necessarily realize you’ve moved until you’ve lived there for a while.  The move is both gradual and sudden.  Your loved one ages and you start to help in little ways.  A sudden illness or injury and you help out a bit as they recover.  What you don’t know at the time, is that sudden injury or illness is starting a chain of events that would have overwhelmed you had you ever realized your address had just changed and there was no moving back any time soon.

We all know what valleys look like.  They are low places, with shadows that hang over on all sides..  And these low places are filled with things most of us try to avoid.  Like fear and death. In the valley, fear takes on a life of it’s own…it has a form and a shape and it looks like death.  The threat of death, is always lurking in the shadows.  And then there’s the bone wearying tiredness and overwhelming and sometimes debilitating sense of loss, along with a need to always be on guard for the next problem.

In the valley you learn to fight.  Against ignorance…your own and others.  You fight against your nightmares, which threaten to become reality.  You fight to do what’s right. You fight against yourself when you want to quit and with others when they want you to quit.  The valley can be an exhausting place.

With all the lows of the valley, one might think it is a place to avoid.  Certainly anyone who chooses to live there can’t be right in the head!

But here’s the thing….there is beauty in the valley.  Beauty you can’t see anywhere else. There’s a beauty in the valley that transcends even what a mountain top view can offer. And the company in the valley is the reason for the view.  Psalm 23….The psalm that talks about walking through the valley of the shadow of death, also gives a promise.  And it’s the promise that provides the beauty.

“Yea,though I walk though the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for YOU are with me…..”.

Early on in the valley, I feared evil.  I was terrified by it.  Death was evil.  It was the enemy that you knew would win in the end, but that you would fight against with all your might.  The exhaustion that comes with fighting an enemy that is guaranteed to win is not only exhausting, it’s foolish.

I was controlled by my fears until I met Submission.   Submitting to the reality of our inability to control when someone dies moves you from a very dark valley, to a new valley where there is beauty and potential….right in front of you, that you are now freed up to see.  Submission is not giving up.  It’s not laying down the fight.  But it is recognizing what you can and can’t control.  Its choosing when and where to fight.  It allows you to see who the real enemy is.

Sometimes the enemy is ourselves…Fear is everywhere in the valley.   Left to our own devices, fear can overtake us.  But when I remember that the Psalm promises….”YOU are with me”...the fear is tamed and in the best moments, it is vanquished.

That YOU it mentions, is the Creator of Heaven and Earth.  I don’t just have a good friend or family member with me…..(though praise God when I do)……I have the God of the Universe with me!  He reminds me that even though I live in the valley, the valley isn’t all there is.  I’m choosing to live here for a time, so that the people I love don’t have to walk through this place alone.  Walking alongside someone who is in the valley, has eternal significance.

God knows how we look at death.  He knows how death and the fear of death motivates our choices.  He knows we need him beside us to walk though this valley.  When we freely and willingly go through the valley so someone else won’t be there alone, we are doing exactly what He has done for us.

And that is what love does.  It comes alongside.  It sits with us in the mess that the end of life can bring.  It is a place filled with loss and sadness.  They grieve and you grieve with them.  You grieve for the pain they feel.  For who they were and what has been lost. Their address has changed since coming to the valley and it makes them disoriented.  You remind them, no matter where they live, whether it’s in a place they’ve always known, or a dark valley or in heaven…they are loved.  You are the physical hands and feet of Jesus as they journey to what’s waiting for them, at the other side.  It’s an opportunity to bring light to the shadows and love to dark places.  And that love, makes it all worthwhile.

So these days, if you’re looking for me, you’ll find me in the valley.  I’m not sure how long I’ll be staying, but I won’t regret a moment spent here.  For although the walk is shadowed by death, the path is filled with life and love.

 

 

 

 

 

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addictions, decluttering, diet, healing, hope, inertia, letting go, living and growing, mourning, moving on, new life, peace, perspective, struggles, Uncategorized, will power

De-cluttering – Letting Go of the Inertia

Why does inertia have so much influence over our lives?   What is it that can make us want to do something for a long, long time and yet we just don’t?   I blame inertia but I can’t seem to put my finger on what causes the inertia.   Sometimes it’s as simple as a bad night’s sleep.   The next day is spent just trying to stay awake.   But other times, when lack of sleep isn’t to blame, why don’t I do the things I say and think that I want to do?

Some of the things are simple….pick up that piece of trash on the floor….umm, no, thanks…I will instead choose to walk by it 5, 10 or perhaps 25 times before I finally decide to take the half of second it needs for me to deal with it.  But as soon as I take care of it, I feel better.  Funny that such a simple thing can bring relief yet I don’t choose to simply pick it up, the first time I see it.  What gives??

Then there’s the bigger things….projects, jobs, dreams….I get where some of that inertia comes from.   These things require time and effort.   They may require skills I don’t yet have, connections with people I don’t yet know.   Maybe I don’t want to start one more thing that I might not finish.   Maybe I’m afraid I’ll fail.  Maybe deep down I don’t really want to do it or maybe I think it’s not worthy of my time.

I’m trying to de-clutter my life these days.   Honestly, I started the process 16 years ago but with five small kids at the time, my attention was often diverted elsewhere.   And as kids grow, de-cluttering means getting rid of the past.   That’s hard.  For a long time I found it impossible to let stuff go.

So over the last year I started looking at de-cluttering in a different way.   It wasn’t just about getting rid of stuff….although I have doggedly been doing that.  I started in January with de-cluttering addictions.   First to sugar, and most recently caffeine.   Controlling the will and ultimately changing what the will wants is a long slow process.  It takes a lifetime.  But I’ve learned it is possible.

Then I challenged my lifelong distaste (bordering on hatred actually) of exercise.  I started exercising most days, last summer.   But then the cool weather kicked in and I quit making the effort.   I started again this past summer and learned the difference between doing something because you should and doing something because you want to.   The longer I did it the more benefit I started to see and slowly, very slowly, I began to want to do it because it makes me feel better.

With each victory over my old stubborn will of downright refusal, I felt lighter….slightly less cluttered.   But inertia is still the enemy.   It whispers how busy i am – there can’t be time to exercise….how deprived I am…so many foods you can’t eat!   It tells me other things matter more.  Some days I listen to those whispers.   Most days now, I listen a lot less.

All this makes me wonder….has inertia ever been a problem for you?   Do certain circumstances provoke it in you?   How do you move beyond it?  I’d love to know.

 

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