there will be times my mama said

May 26th, I guess that is next Monday or Sunday? My mom would be seventy five years old if she were still walking around down here on Earth. Instead I am left to wonder how her staying would have made a difference in my life? I would definitely be a better gardener. I might even still be canning, keeping, putting up foodstuff from a vegetable garden of sorts. At the very least my fledgling patch of spindly perennials would benefit from her knowledge and hopefully from a touch or two of her green thumbs.
Would I be a better parent? A better grandparent, cause she would be a great grandparent soon to be seven times.  Her words of wisdom and insight so faded from memory, lost in the years buried beneath the turmoil of today. My prayer would be that her words, thoughts, admonishings are implanted in my being beyond the cognizant deep in my innermost.
Do I wish her back from the Presence of the Father? How could I? Her joy complete, her song of praise sweetly ministering to my Jesus. The Jesus who carries me, feeds me, presents me with my every breath and very life; she sits in His Presence. Selfishly, I wouldn't mind a conversation or two. An embrace, some advice on my rocky soil. Eternity is a quick breath away. Whereas each moment here with the ones I cherish a gift beyond compare. To die is gain, it live is Christ. In this imperfect fallen world I can ask for nothing more.

Looking Back

found this in an old note section on Facebook

Monday September 29, 2008
Bottle Baby

Kaleb is asleep; DA is sucking down his evening cocktail of baby formula and rice cereal. Yum, yum! I have just tried to type that four times. My fingers are sure not doing the walking tonight. I swore I would never prop up a bottle for a baby. Oh, well...so many things change. I do have to grab him and burp him or the sleeping may not go so well. He smells so good right now it would be a shame to stink him up with baby puke...fluids again. OK, burping with one hand typing with the other. That's not working so well either.

All is complete. Both babes are sound asleep. Jer brought me some stuff that needs filled out by tomorrow; at least its not two dozen cupcakes or something awful like that. As soon as I get the pics from my camera from my dad's I will post one or two.

Babies keep getting cuter, but I am getting a bit weary. I need my spirit stirred for the long haul. On one hand I cannot imagine not having them, but on the other I am leaning heavily on the Power of God to bring me through this on so many levels. These tiny little people so dependent, so helpless to continue on without their every need being met through the grownups in their lives. The honor, privilege, responsibility of it all is awesome in the overwhelmingly filled with awe kind of way.

And, in a completely different way than the other day I am undone.

Mother's Day

Sometimes a girl has to stay up too late. Just to think. To think about all the stuff, important stuff in her life. Being a mom, a wife, a friend, a crummy housekeeper. All the stuff of life that makes her smile, like being the only one awake and listening to the snoring. If they are snoring and near enough for her to hear it; then they are safe. And somehow; illogically its because of her.
She thinks at least at this moment, she is certain beyond certain that she knows she would die or kill to protect.
The passion of it so strong her heart quickens. the physical,  organic, visceral love aches and soars, coursing, throbbing.
But will she live for Him? Will she acknowledge Him in her living, in her laughing? Explain how He catches her tears and especially cherishes the ones unshed, unseen, bitten back.
How good, how kind He is.
Her life and all its stuff is all about Him. Because of Him.
With a grateful sigh she knows it is He who makes the ordinary extraordinary. The fallen upright.
So she can stand.

Silly Life

My babies; six grandchildren, soon to be seven. With much anticipation I wait to see if the girls will begin to catch up or will the young men storm ahead continuing to crush the estrogen end or our growing family. During the formative years it was me and the boys...much later in life it again seems like that is my calling in life, to be the odd girl out in a testosterone laced castle where young princes reign and the old king prowls my palace wreaking dirty underwear, grimy dishes, and matchbox havoc. A palace where plants are grown to be uprooted, dishes are washed to be dirtied, and socks are doomed to live solitary lives searching with no avail for their life partner.

So will number seven be counted among the few the feminine or the mighty and masculine? Only our dear Father in Heaven and His Holy Son know for sure. The secret mysteries of the Heavens are revealed to us only when He allows, hopefully baiting a hungry people for more of Him. Filling our spiritual bellies with a glimpse of Forever in a fallen world. Sweet, sweet Jesus, give me just enough so I that I always yearn for More.