The First Hundred

...in the light of eternity. "Life's a tough proposition, and the first hundred years are the hardest." Wilson Mizner

Saturday, October 22, 2005

Dreams

What is it with dreams, anyway? I've been waking up all week with my dreams just on the edge of consciousness. I know I've been dreaming, but in the foggy, hazy wake-up moments, the colors and sounds in which I've been immersed swirl away down the drain, while I lie there, puzzled; wondering. It must have been pleasant, because in my drowsiness I try to recapture the story line, but to no avail. I feel relaxed, renewed with the morning; but wondering, all the same.

Bad dreams, on the other hand, tear you from your deepest sleep while the cracks in the window blinds are still dark. The electric jolt in your legs reverberates through your body and squeezes your lungs. The story is vivid and clear, and replays itself in your wide-awake mind. You pull the covers closer to warm your chills. Turn on your side, curl up; turn your back on the nightmare. Sooner or later sensibility returns: nothing harmful here... just a dream...
But always in the morning, you're left wondering.

Thursday, October 13, 2005

Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor...

Have you ever missed an important phone call? Don't you hate it when that happens? Especially when it's from your son who's in boot camp, and has had only two opportunities to call you in seven weeks, and he got the answering machine both times, and he tried your cell phone but you'd taken it out of your pocket for two minutes to clean your lap of the salad dressing that you'd spilled, and he tried his dad's cell phone which was ignored because it looked like a wrong number, and he tried a friend down the street who was recovering from surgery and was sleeping very soundly.....
Makes you start to wonder if you were supposed to talk to him, after all.
Then, two days later, you receive a letter in the mail, and it's one of the best letters you've ever read. Don't you just love it when that happens?

Thursday, October 06, 2005

God's Handiwork


I had just filled the bird bath and was heading for the back door, bucket in hand, when I heard the neighbor's window go up, and a, "Yoo hoo! I just got a birth announcement from your daughter and that baby is bee-oo-tiful!" Well, of course I had to stop and chat a while, mostly listening to her rave about Luke's fluffy, dark hair and his perfect skin ("He wasn't all wrinkly, or anything!")

As a Grandma, you naturally think your grandchildren are the cutest, and when someone else wants on your bandwagon you're inclined to give them a hand up.

This morning I caught myself. After she pronounced him "bee-oo-tiful", I almost said, "Thank you". Almost. As if I had anything to do with it.

I needed a better response. Here's what I said: "Yes, isn't he special?" Here's what I should have added: "Isn't God's handiwork awesome?!" Next time. The next time I will give credit where credit is due.

As I stowed my bucket in the laundry room, I was feeling very grateful to an immense God who allows us to fill our hearts with his tiny miracles, and always gives us another chance to share them with others.

Tuesday, October 04, 2005

Read To Me

Even though he's started taking his first steps, Josiah loves to sit on your lap and help you turn the pages. His favorite book? CLIFFORD'S ANIMAL SOUNDS.
Soon enough, he'll want to walk and run more than sit, so we're taking advantage of these quiet moments.