Love Lifted Me.

One of my earliest memories is of my mother rocking me in her arms.  I remember the rhythm of the rocking chair on a hard wooden floor; caclunk, caclunk, caclunk.  over and over and over.  The warmth of her neck and the tap of her hand on my back, keeping time.  Time that tends to move more quickly than any of us like.  Remembering now what it must feel like to put on love like a blanket.  I remember my hair on my cheek, dancing with the rocking motion, and that it itched, but would float away off my skin when she would rock again.  I remember curling my fingers of my right hand on her back and feeling the softness of her shirt; tangling in a crocheted blanket hung behind her.  yellow. green. white.  soft.    My other hand clenched into a fist; nestled under my body; wedged between my mother and me; closest to her neck.  Safe. loved. sleepy.

Years later, I would rock my own babies.  Soothing my love onto them, in rhythm.

So, one day, after an exhausting something of another day, I was humming.  Gathering laundry and tidying up, I continued with a song from within. I was raised with music and hymns so this didn't surprise me.  But my mother, she stopped me.  "sing it again," she said.  I did.  "ah, you must be tired." she smiled.  Well, of course I am tired, I thought.  who isn't?  "Love lifted me,"  she said, "That's the song."  "Love lifted me.  Love lifted me.  When nothing else could help, love lifted me..."

My grandmother, her mother, taken from us too soon, would sing that song to me over and over to get me to sleep.  Like a magic spell, she'd let the lyrics fall over me and before long (sometimes a little longer) I'd drifted off.  I don't remember this.  I try so hard to remember her, but can't.  I wasn't even two when Jesus took her up to dance on the streets that are golden.  I understand that my mother looks just like her.  She must have been beautiful.

James Rowe wrote the words, among the more than 20,000 other poems and hymns he penned in his lifetime.  Born in 1865 in England; this particular song didn't come to him until 1912 after he had relocated to New York; lived life, worked hard. I wonder if he even considered that a mother, more than a hundred years later, would be so moved by the words he jotted down?  And when Howard E. Smith wrote music to bring the words to life, did he even entertain the idea that its melody would quiet a colicky baby a lifetime away?

So, when my days are longer than I prefer, I find myself singing the words.  Smiling when i catch myself involuntarily reliving a memory.  Reminded that Jesus keeps rescuing me.  safe am I. Love lifted me. Knowing lovely, strong women helped mold me into who i am today.  A mother, to a daughter, to her daughter, to mine....whispering warm words into little ears. bringing comfort, love, and deep yawns from one generation to the next.

                                                           Love continues to lift me.

Snow Day!

I love them so very much.

Just a peek!

I spent an unexpected snow day going through my cedar chest.  The children didn't even know it opens, they thought it was just a bench.  Inside were treasures and somethings that never should have been in there.  Macaroni necklaces for one!  Yikes!  That stuff disintegrates into a powdery mess!

A cake topper from my grandparent's wedding, two tiny pairs of shoes, one mine, one my mothers.  A puppy toy that was drug on many adventures.  My sorority sisters' notes of encouragement.  A handful of graduation tassels.  a few hospital bracelets, still intact, unlike my nerves on the days where my little boy thought he was invincible.  Cupcake's dress that she was wearing the day I met her.  An autographed t-shirt from my first NFL game.  Cards, notes, letters and i love you scrawled by little hands.

And then there, pressed between a few other papers was a list.  A prayer list nearly 7 years old.  The corners tattered and dog eared.  As I read down through the list, I remembered.  The lives requests and praises jotted down.  Illnesses, losses, and joys, hopes, firsts.  My son's first tooth lost made the list.  The children's prayers are always so beautifully transparent.  Boo-boos.  pets. a cat who died 3 years ago makes the list again.  All important.  All treasured.

Some wonderful people now home with Jesus.  Some struggles come to an end, some good, some not so good.  Families adopting waiting. waiting.  waiting.  now home!

I read the list over a couple of times, embracing the emotion that went with it.

I placed each treasure back in it's place.  The discard pile minimal, pretty much just the brittle pasta jewels.

In fact, I didn't really clean out anything.  I guess my soul was just longing to remember.  remember that life is special and those in it are treasures.  When i think i've not gotten very far, i need to peek back over my shoulder and smile.  Through the peaks, pits, praises and prayers, i'm looking ahead eager to see what lies before us.  In the meantime, i may need a bigger cedar chest!

Rrrrrr! Matey! Where's the bird trap?

"I'm a pirate; here to steal the treasure!  Where'd ye hide it?!" I say, using my best pirate voice as I hold up a stapled piece of a brown bag to one eye to serve as an eye patch.  Giggles erupt because apparently there is no buried treasure in the classroom, but treasures are there for sure! I've seen them!  They have names and sit in little desks and use lots of crayons and erasers!  They use their sleeves as tissues and wear one mitten on their hand all day, just because!  

I have the wonderful pleasure of temporarily being in a classroom and I can not begin to explain the joy I have found!  I've used my imagination more in two days than in the last two years!  We've painted, colored!  We built ramps, buildings, and even a bird trap!  What's a bird trap?  

I have no idea, but it was awesome!  And no birds got out.  So I guess that was a success!

We built an adirondack for a bunch of small plastic people and a much too large, stuffed eagle.  We had to rebuild the camping adirondack frequently as the eagle wiggled a lot! The imaginary people camped and had a very big birthday celebration for Susie Snowflake; complete with singing and a large cake made of duplos!  We built lego fighter jets and made bracelets out of discarded printer paper!  We made pasta necklaces and gave Daniel Tiger at least 10 baths!  And we had the best Pet Store ever!   Complete with monkeys, crabs, and even a snake. It must have been a nice snake though, because I'm not fond of those things at all!

I may have to officially change my name to "Hey!"  as in "Hey!  Come see this!" or "Hey!  Do you know where my pencil is?"  I wear star necklaces with #1 stenciled on them ~made out of paper and trimmed with tiny scissors!  I'm very proud wear the hearts on a string and I proudly brought home the rainbow drawings and puppets made from lunch bags. 

I've gone to the computer lab and helped bake pretend pizzas online and collect bananas for all the letters we're learning to type!  I've learned the difference between length and height and weight!  I've counted by tens and ones! I read a new book in the library by my favorite children's author!  

I had the best lunch company and they were super impressed I can eat with chop sticks!  They want to know what wasabi tastes like and call my lunch container a "magic box".  And it's okay to sing Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer during lunch, even if it's after Christmas and we have hamburger  in our mouths, as long as we keep it to an appropriate sound level!  

They don't know I'm old.  They like my red shoes and my sparkly water bottle.  They don't know I had forgotten how to play.  They didn't notice that my hair isn't perfect and i had a stain on my shirt the first day.  They call me Hey and know I will help them with making their letters.  

Someone exclaimed today, "this was the best day ever!" 

I smile as I remember.  It was truly a great day.  I don't think I ever want to grow up... again!

Have We Met? Who are you, again?

So, the last several years have been made up of "i'll catch up tomorrow"!  And incredibly all those tomorrows became months and years!  Years chalked full of memories, laughs, questions, doubts, trials, and triumphs.

So here we are dancing in the light of the New Year 2015, where Back to the Future promised us hovering cars and electric shoe laces.  And when we first watched that movie, we thought about how incredibly far away that was and how none of us was ever going to be that old.  I mean 40 was like almost dead, right?  Well, when you are in the moment and the blazing candles on the cake are flickering and the to off key singing someone adds your name to the song; you realize time has some how gotten away from you.  and someone has the nerve to add "and many more, you're old like a dinosaur.  And when you are living and looking ahead, you never realize how fast you are going until it's the eve of your last day in your 30's and you're staring at a mental break down brought on by reality.  A reality that you know you can't change and all of a sudden you are not in control of anything and never were.  ...but how when the sun comes up that next morning and you are still breathing and 41 is peeking around the corner, laughing, it's not so bad.  In fact, it's an opportunity to live and make a difference.  Make memories.  laugh.  love.  

Not that this ever happened to me. I feel bad for all my friends that graduated with me that are turning  40.  must.be.hard.

So in the time that got away, the kids have grown up so much.

The baby that was born the size of a kindergartner is now roaming the halls of junior high.  His long legs and lean frame have decided basketball was a great direction and our days are not complete without a bouncing ball in the drive way, down the hall, and even in the bathroom.  We are all developing a serious case of bleacher butts and our little sprite has begun writing her first novel entitled "my life in the bleachers.".  There's so much more to him than that, though.  He's smart and funny and sometimes over the top.  He sets "picks" in the kitchen while I'm trying to do dishes.  He pretends he doesn't want hugs.  He thinks of others.  He thinks outside the box.  Somedays, he doesn't want the box at all.

Cupcake is a thousand personalities in a very tiny frame.  She has a great smile that makes her nose  crinkle up.  She raises her eye brows when she's trying to make a point.  She's a ball of fire when things don't go according to her plan.  And she laughs a lot when things do.  She thinks she's in charge sometimes.  We remind her she's not.  She loves to dance and stops halfway down the sidewalk to do a hand stand just because.  She practices doing splits and tells me I can't do them right.  I tell her if I tried, I'd be stuck that way forever.  And since there are still days I believed my mother about my face "freezing that way",  I thought i shouldn't risk the whole split thing.  Someday she thinks she'd like to be a cheerleader.  Her father says only if they wear more clothes.  Good thing she also likes basketball.  otherwise she'll be the only cheerleader in snow pants and a turtleneck.

My husband and I are still in love.  He's compassionate and gentle and still full of useless trivia.  Hopefully we have a whole lot of tomorrows to spend together, trying to figure out this family thing.  Trying to parent without a handbook.  We spend our days wondering if we are doing anything right and relish in the joy of things like, unexpected hugs, an apology where it was needed, witnessing them enjoying each other, and the peace of still checking on them at night.  Stealing another glance at them sleeping and making sure they are still breathing.  The comfort in love. the joy of being able to try.