I Love You Biggerest

I Love You Biggerest

We have no idea of the love of God. We say to Him, I love you, and he probably looks at us with a smile of tolerance. God's love for us is on such a different level that the words don't even mean the same thing. His love is so much more, so much different, so much bigger.

I love you biggerest. That's what we always said to each other, my little boy and I.

It was sort of a game...who loved who the biggerest, but our love to each other was so different, it's hard to tell who won.

When he looked out of those big, blue eyes with a child's innocence written across his face, he had no idea what mommy's love was made of.

My love consisted of something bigger, something greater than his little child's mind could comprehend. My love existed before he was ever born. When he was safely enclosed in my body, I loved him. When his movements reminded me that a life grew within me, I loved him. And, when I travailed to the point of death, I loved him.

The love that we give and receive, as mommies, is just so much more. We begin our process of showing love after the birth of our little cherubims. I mean, who else but a mother will stumble through the first six months of a baby's life in pure exhaustion, remembering those long forgotten days of sleeping until you actually just woke up? They say that a form of torture that is used to weaken prisoners is sleep depravation, but I say to you, it's not torture, it's motherhood.

We go through infantry (the life of an infant) smelling like milk, spit up, and other odors of unnamed sources, smiling at our husbands with smears of baby food on our faces. Our hair doesn't see a comb unless it's an absolute emergency and sweats become the infantry uniform. No, it's not pretty, but we survive, and now we are introduced to the life of a toddler.

We usually get more sleep during this phase, but we are wakened with the sounds of things breaking, someone screaming, or by that weird feeling of someone looking at you and you open your eyes to a little person staring at you, standing there with a stuffed animal that has lost it's eyes and most it's stuffing, long ago. There's lots of story books, changing clothes, and mud during this phase. There's new goals...no more binky, no more bottle, and no more diapers. There's lots of peekaboo, grandparents acting goofy, and parties around the potty chair.

We've spent all our time and energy making little independent replicas of ourselves only to be heartbroken as they take their first step onto the schoolbus, in the next phase. We have crayon works of art on our walls and refrigerator, we have dried bouquets of dandelions drooping in a glass because we can't bring ourselves to throw it out, and we have our first moment of outrage that our perfect angel gets a check mark beside of "talks too much" on their report card.

Preteen and teen years are the funnest and most exciting years of all. However, from about 12 years old to graduation, it goes so fast that our heads are still spinning until its time to send them off on their own, and we yell, "Hey, wait a minute! I'm not ready! Come back here!" And then, they're gone.

So, yea, I think I won the game. I think I can probably say, "I love you biggerest" and know its the truth.

Now,....where's that grand baby? Grammy has something to tell her....I love you biggerest!

Jeremiah 1:5a. Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee;
 Psalms 139:14,17-18. I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvelous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well.
How precious also are thy thoughts unto me, O God! How great is the sum of them! If I should count them, they are more in number than the sand: when I awake I am still with thee.

What a Beautiful Song

I don't know how I went from being "mom" to being a funny talking, always gushing, there's nobody like my grandbabies "grammy", but I'm definitely there.  I can whip out my iphone faster than any quick draw gunslinger and have those grandbaby pictures in your face before you can say "I've already seen them a thousand times!"

I had the chance to hang out with one of the prettiest, smartest, absolute most adorable little babies I've ever seen.  Oh, and did I mention that she is my granddaughter?

Okay, okay, I am exaggerating a little...I think.  I'm not sure anymore because becoming a grandparent does something to the brain cells.  I don't think rationally anymore.  Like the time my oldest granddaughter was in a beauty pageant and grammy bought her a "casual" outfit that cost more than my first tv. (I think....again, the brain cells)  Or the time I kept one of my grandbabies for a few days when she was an infant and I slept with her bed in my bed.  How else could I make sure she would be okay?  It was a little bed anyway, so it made sense at the time. (brain cells)

Well, back to the story of spending a few days with grandbaby #4.  She's a doll.  All my grandbabies have something special about them.  #1 loves gardening and has his own garden every summer.  He also likes to tell grammy what she's doing wrong in her garden. 

#2 loves to read.  We spent hours swinging outside on the bench swing not saying anything, just reading.  She loves to read, just like grammy.  She's a cheerleader, just like grammy (approximately 150 years ago).  And she loves bling, just like grammy.

#3 loves...well....just about anything, except loud noises.  She's got some kind of inner rythm that comes out to any kind of music, but her favorite song is "You are my Sunshine" reworded to "You are my Bugaboo."   She loves smiling and grammy's jewelry.

Back to the story of grandbaby #4.  I spent several days with her, and each day I loved hearing her sing.  Yes, she's only 5 months old, but I'm telling you she can sing.  It's so beautiful and I loved hearing it everyday.  Well, of course it didn't have words!  She can't talk, she's only 5 months old!   Do you think I'm nuts?!  (don't answer that)  But it was music.  At least to my ears it was. 

Every morning, I'd go say hi to her.  She'd smile.  I'd smile.  She would try to get to grammy's arms, I couldn't wait to feel her soft body snuggled in my arms.   Then it would begin....the most beautiful song I've ever heard.  Sometimes it would go really high, sometimes low, sometimes very loud, and sometimes just a whisper, but beautiful all the same. 

I'm back home, now, and I sure wish I could hear that song.

Mom

"Mommy."  What a sweet word.  We go over and over it with our little, toothless cherubs.  While we're feeding them, we say, "say mommy", while we're bathing them, "say, ma ma", changing diapers, "say mom mom," and holding them, "say mommy."

And then, one day, they look at us and say, "mleh" and we gush and call everyone we know and tell them that our little genius just said mommy.

In just a few years, it seems that is the only word we hear.  We have a houseful of kids that constantly want mom.  We go in the laundry room and hope to drown out the incessant yell for mom.  We go in the bathroom and lock the door while little miniature people bang on it pleading for mom.  And as soon as we get on the telephone, they gather round with a chorus of "mom".

I saw a cartoon clip where this poor mother was laying on her bed with a glazed look in her eyes while her little boy stood beside the bed saying, "mom mom mom mommy mommy mommy mum mum mum mummy mom mom mom mom."  She finally comes out of her daze and yells, "WHAT!" He says, "hi", turns around and runs away giggling.

At the time, it wasn't much to laugh at, but now I look back on those days with a smile.

From the first glance of our little wrinkled person, we are already beginning to make plans.  We immediately start trying to make them independent.  We try to get them to sleep all night.  It's all we think about.  It's our goal in life.

Then, a little later, we begin to let them hold the bottle, then the cup, then the spoon.  And, eventually, they begin to want to dress themselves. ( I have memories of shorts, cowboy boots, no shirt, and a baseball cap.)

They hold the pencil in their hand, tongue pressed out in concentration, a small frown between their eyes, and then a look of ecstasy crosses their face when they make their first "A".  And pretty soon there are nonstop papers to hang on the refrigerator with scribbled crayon marks, stick figures and smiling suns.

Before you know it, we're not allowed to rush up and hug them in front of classmates.  You start hearing some girl's (or boy's) name over and over in conversations.  And then.....a date!

You start thinking, wait a minute....slow down....not yet!  It's all going too fast, it's getting out of our control....STOP!  But it doesn't.  It just continues on, and they're doing exactly what we've taught them from our first introduction to each other.  Independence.

When they are small, we're too busy raising them to see what's going on right before our eyes, and suddenly, we turn around, and in place of that chubby little person is a young man or young woman.

Sad?  Yea, at first.  Lonely?  For awhile.  Then, there comes the pride.  Not a sinful pride of anything we've done, but a pride that comes with accomplishing a goal.  The goal was to make productive, God fearing adults.  It was to make a person that will be okay, a person that can make it on their own, a person who is independent. 

Goal accomplished.

The days of hearing the word "mom" for the ten thousandth time in one day, grating on frazzled nerves will be over soon enough.  It's replaced with "mom" and hearing a lifetime of I love you's, as being introduced as "my mom" and being a title of honor, and knowing that my independent adult children will do anything to take care of "mom."


Proverbs 23:24,25  The father of the righteous shall greatly rejoice: and he that begetteth a wise child shall have joy of him.  Thy father and thy mother shall be glad, and she that bear thee shall rejoice.

I Am So Blessed

It's been a rough few months. Well, actually, it's been a rough few years. Not to dwell too much on the details, I'll just hit the highlights. It started when my sister had to have shoulder surgery and they found out she had lung disease. Shortly after, my mom moved away and I went through some sad times. My sister's husband was diagnosed with brain cancer and we watched as his life faded away. We lost both my mother in law and father in law within six months. My grandson, who is autistic, had to be sent to a home because of his violent aggression, one of our darling, sweet nieces died of cancer, we had to put my mother in a nursing home and now my sister is in the hospital with heart failure.

Sometimes I wonder how people make it through hard times and then I look around and I'm one of those people.

I was thinking about my sister this morning and was feeling a little down, so I decided to get out the pictures of my grand kids. That's it! That's what I do. I have to take a break from all the sadness and look at how I've been blessed. It's not some rocket science answer, it's just a simple solution...there truly is always some kind of "good" in our lives. Even if it's just looking out and seeing sunshine, its something.

I mean, really, how can we stay defeated when we look into the little, chubby faces of grand babies, and how can we not be lifted when we see our own smiles reflected in our grand kids faces?

If we can't see God's blessings and God's grace in these faces, then, undoubtedly, we're blind.  "And of his fullness have all we received, and grace for grace." John 1:16

They will always bring a smile, no matter what circumstances I face, and I will always feel blessed to be a part of their lives. 

"Behold, chldren are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb is his reward. Psalms 127:3

                                                       

That Beautiful Smile

I hope my dear friends will bear with me one more time as I try to honor our niece.  All my friends know that we've seen our dear niece, Ashley, go from living life to it's fullest to passing on in death.  It's been a horrible experience.  It's been horrible to see her weaken in sickness.  It's been horrible to see her husband struggling through the experience, and it's been horrible seeing her little boys cry from being heartbroken and not understanding where mommy is.  Oh, Lord, my heart is grieving.

But in spite of it all, there is one thing that God gives in the midst of all our misery, and that is memories.  Ashley was a cute little pixie of a girl who loved pickles more than candy.  She giggled at everything and was always ready for some fun.  She was beautiful inside and out, and the center of all that beauty was her smile.  I wrote a poem for her and about her, and (thank God for his strength) was able to read it at her memorial service today.  I hope you can catch a little glimpse of our Ashley.

                                               THAT BEAUTIFUL SMILE

She arrived in town, on a warm summer day,

  after nine months being snuggled safely away.

She was all pink and girly, with a soft, white downy head

  and as they cuddled together in that hospital bed,
Her mother looked down and told her, "I've been waiting awhile"
  and in her mind, she already knew that beautiful smile.

She toddled through life those first few years,
  falling, laughing, giggling, and shedding very few tears.
She became her cousin's best little friend
  they ran, played, and rode big wheels until each day's end.
Her hair was snow white, her face usually dirty, but all the while
  she captured our hearts with that beautiful smile.

Her days were full of friends and family and Curious George, too
  while most kids ate popsicles, she had a pickle or two.
All of the community was her back yard
  and staying away from Mamaw and Papaw's was awfully hard.
Running through their house like a little juvenile
  they didn't care as long as they saw that beautiful smile.

She grew to be a girl full of action and fun
  How can you be daddy's little girl, a diva, and a tomboy, all in one?
School was easy with science, literature, mathmatics and fractions
  Until one day, way too soon, boys became main attractions.
But she captured one boy's heart, and to resist was futile
  It was too late because he saw that beautiful smile!

She and the cousin, who was her best friend
  came full circle and were together again.
In college, new friends made, old acquaintances renewed
  still playing games, still being silly, just with a new attitude.
These games included water balloons in a stockpile
  but she could get away with anything with that beautiful smile.

She became a professional, a wife and a mother
  she worked hard and loved hard, like no other.
There were days of exhaustion, no makeup, bad hair,
  toys underfoot, kids crying, despair.
Even in disarry, her husband saw the girl who walked down the aisle
  and captured his heart with that beautiful smile.

When sickness took over and no hope was in sight
  her faith wasn't shaken, on and on she would fight.
But finally, when she closed her eyes here for the very last time
  she opened them in heaven with it's beauty, sublime.

Her cousin, her sister, her grandparents await
  they're laughing and waving to her at the gate.
They grab her and hug her and show her around
  never has such beauty in her life been found.
They tell her all pain is over, and never another trial
  and they are amazed at that beautiful smile!

They tell her they have someone they want her to meet
  They take her by the hand to sit at His feet.
She wants to thank Him, and how she tries
  But she's never, ever seen such love as shown in His eyes.
He leans down to touch her, and it's all worthwhile
  when He says He's the One that gave her that beautiful smile.

Just a Little Overwhelmed

I don't know.  Is it just me or does everyone else feel overwhelmed sometimes. 

I'm a fix it person.  I don't like whining or complaining about something if you're not going to fix it.  Just get over whatever it is, pull yourself up by the bootstraps and fix it.  But right now, I can't fix it.

I've got a dear mom who fell and broke her leg.  I can't fix it.  She's dealing with some dementia.  I can't fix that either.  My darling neice is dying a little more each day with cancer.  I can't do a thing.  My  grandson is autistic and is dealing with more things than a little boy should ever have to, and grammy can't fix anything.

So what use am I??  What good is it to see them everyday going through all these trials and I can't do a blessed thing???

I know I'm usually the silly one, the goofy grandma, the one cracking jokes, but today I just can't laugh.  I'm overwhelmed.  However.......

....I have a great big God, who is the beginning and the end; the Almighty God, who is never overwhelmed; the Prince of Peace, who gives comfort when there is no other comfort; He's a father to the fatherless, and watched over me through all the careless years I had without a father;  the Creator of the universe, from the peaks of Mt. Everest, to the little tiny crickets in my backyard, and He knows my name.  He knows how many hairs are on my head and how many freckles are on my face (and that's quite a few!)  He knows the thoughts inside my head, and he even knows when there's absolutely nothing going on in there (which is quite often).  He knows my name. 

 I just can't get over that.  In spite of the bazillions of other things that are so important, and the bazillions of other people, He still knows me.  He knows where I am, He knows my heart is breaking, and He knows that I am a "fix it" person and that I feel helpless right now...and He loves me.

No, nothing is fixed.  Everything is still bleak.  Yet, here I sit with tears in my eyes and a hug to my heart.  No one else can do that.  No one other than my Father. 

But now saith the LORD that created thee; O Jacob, and he that formed thee, O Israel, Fear not: for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine.  When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.

Day 1, Six Months to Go

Faced one of the hardest days of my life on Monday, January 23, 2012.  I don't think I'll ever forget it.  But first, let me tell you a little about my grandson.

His name is Zachariah, he's 11 years old, he loves gardening (he has his own garden every summer), he loves fishing, he loves electronics and he is autistic.

Zach never comes to my house without bringing me something he's made me or something he's bought me.  Usually, it's a crayon drawing with my name on it.  You see, he's just learned to write a few words and "joy" is one of them.  He's always very proud of those.  Sometimes he brings me plants that he has grown from just a seed, or he brings me something sweet to eat because he loves sweets.

 But Zach has a different side...the autistic side.  He can become agitated over the slightest thing, or over nothing at all.  He becomes aggressive, and sometimes even violent.  He has the strength of a man when these rages take over his little body and can cause harm to anyone it's directed at.  He gets in such a fury that he loses all control of his mind and body.  He becomes someone else.

When it's over, he is saturated in sweat and, most times, doesn't remember what he did.  After such an episode, I was talking to him and he asked me, "Grammy, what's wrong with me?"

Autism is like a parasite affecting the mind, the body, and the emotions of it's host.  It takes a perfectly innocent looking child and turns them into a mean, hurtful person.  Or it makes them slower, not as smart, not as coordinated as other children.  It makes them a target of bullies.

The aggressive behaviour has progressively gotten worse over the last year and our options for help has lessened.  The last option for getting him some help to learn to channel his aggressions was to send him to a program that recommends keeping him for six months.  The most heart rending decision that we could ever experience.  I mean, can you imagine sending your child or grandchild away from you for 6 months?

So yesterday was Day 1 of six months.  We drove for four hours in grief and heartbreak.  The weather was gray and rainy which mimicked our hearts pain.  His mommy, his dad, and his grammy trying to pretend that everything's gonna be okay, while inside we were crumbling.

I knew that I had friends and family that were praying specifically for us on this horrible day, but I had no idea how much God would do.  How often we pray for something and we're surprised when God answers.  This was one of those days.

Zach never mentioned, one time, about not wanting to go, or wanting to go back home, or missing anyone.  When we got to the center, we had a conference with some of the workers who directed all their questions to Zach specifically.  To know Zach, you would know that he is very uncomfortable with direct conversation, especially with strangers, but little by little he started answering the questions without prompting from us.  When we went to the "house" where he would be living for the next six months, we were greeted by another young boy who will be one of his housemates.  He smiled at Zach, said hi, shook his hand and showed Zach his new home.

After looking at his new room for just a few minutes, Zach informed us that he wanted all his bags and toys that we had brought so that he could fix up his new room.  I was speechless.  He wanted to get on with this thing and we were trying to hang on to every minute.  He informed us, also, that he did not want to go look at his new school, and wanted us to go ahead and leave.  He hugged us, kissed us, and sent us on our way.  When I looked back, he was sitting on his bed talking to three strangers about all the stuff he brought.  Amazing.

He told his mom on the phone that night that he had taken a shower by himself (which he never bathed himself before, and never, ever took a shower because it freaked him out),and  he had one of the workers cut his toenails.  hahaha.  I laugh because he absolutely would have never asked anyone to do this for him but his mother. 

He also said that he went for a ride that day to take another boy to get a hair cut.  You think that's something pretty simple, but for Zach to sit still while just watching another boy get a haircut is a miracle. 

I've seen God work.  I've seen him answer prayers.  But that day, I saw a miracle.  I know there will be hard days ahead.  It's not all going to be positive, but it is one step.  It's one big step for a little boy who has autism.  And I'm hoping and praying it's one big step for a little boy to become independent and happy.  This is step one for the miles that are ahead of him.

Proverbs 16:9 "A man's heart deviseth his way: but the Lord directeth his steps."

Proverbs 3:5,6  " Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.  In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths."