Peace that surpasses all understanding…
Most everyone I knew said to expect it. The “surge” of joy, that
happens when you get the call that says “you are a grandparent!”
It falls in the category of peace from God that the Bible says
“surpasses all understanding”. It isn’t adequately captured in
bumper stickers, mugs, T-shirts, or anything on this earthly plain.
It exists in the heart and jumps with life at the sound of a little
voice, even when crying. It is the cutest little sound you ever
heard. The sound of grandbabies, that is.
I just love being a grandmother. It is no surprise, really. Common
sense would tell me that it would be amazing, given that I really
really loved and “still” love being a mom. Could all that
WONDERFUL be any less so, spilling down to another generation?
Don’t get me wrong. There WERE times when I truly gazed at the
first star I saw at night, and wished I may, wished I might, that the
aliens that kidnapped my sweet precious children and replaced
them with mind-of-their-own teenagers would just simply bring
back to me, what they stole.
Parents of those teens, keep heart. They will return. They will
travel the twists and turns in life that teach them truth.
And they will love you. They will forgive you for less than perfect
parenting and will love you “anyway”…as you loved them.
What went around, for me, came back around. Hannah, Emily,
Carson, Devan, Bailey, Cade and the “two buns in the oven” are
the refreshment that I find “delish” as I dwell in the land that is on
the other side of the “hill”.
I am in the sandwich generation. I have, on one side, a father
who is afflicted with Parkinsons’ disease. His story is ending up
less than my heart would have hoped for. Two broken hips,
dementia, and a prognosis that is much less than desirable is what
we all live with as a family.
Strength is found in less than expected places. It shows up in my
father as he continues to believe that he will beat the odds.
Doctors, physical therapists, and the the nursing staff of the care
center where he bides time all agree that he is now experiencing
life as good as it will get…from today on till he goes home to God.
Yet he holds out hope and it breaks my heart. It is sad.
And then I think of my beloved little ones. The other side of my
story.
Could God have known that I would need them more than ever as I
journeyed down this path strewn with thickets and thorns, as Dad
and I scribble out the final chapters of his life? Mom left us several
years ago. She, by the way, taught me the hope of joy that is
GRANDPARENTING. She wore that hat so very, very well.
I think God knew exactly how to balance out life. The promises in
the Bible that describe the “time for everything” so perfectly place
my soul in the loving grip of His hand. A time…a plan…that while
we don’t understand always, will reveal itself as a glorious
masterpiece.
My sweet one, Patrick, once stole my attention for an afternoon
and insisted that we visit a clock museum in Iowa. It wasn’t
EXACTLY the dream date that I’d hoped for in the beginning.
But, it was together time for us “old married folk”. I have to admit
that as we traveled through little town after little town (one
boasting of having the world’s largest skillet), I had to turn my
head and snicker in disbelief that my hot date and I were going to
an aged clock museum.
Most folks our age and older were going to the casinos. We took
the three buck tour of the clock museum.
Patrick and I walked away winners, nonetheless. The absolute
perfection that the architects of such beauty was soul drenching.
My sweetheart had planned the perfect date, after all.
Craftsmanship was at a peak of excellence as the hundreds of
clocks that were sychronized to tick together gave an enchanting
performance of little people dancing on the hour, cuckoos coming
out of their little home annoucing that they are to be noticed, and
bells chiming.
It was life.
Little people dancing, cuckoos, and bells chiming. Little joys,
voices that sounded dissonant and unfamiliar to our younger days
and the vibrations of celebration “anyway”. The sounds of reality
were represented with uncanny symbolism, as I recall.
And there was order and purpose and orchestration to it all.
That is where I am at . I’m in good company with so many ,many
hearts that feel the bittersweetness of grieving the old and
passing away, and celebrating the young and coming forth.
The grandbabies. (big smile) They are
“oh-my-gosh-what-did-I-ever-do-to-deserve-such-fun-and-delight”
wonders. It is true. Their poop doesn’t stink.
And nothing this side of heaven can enlighten a heart, struggling or
not, than the sound of their voice or the very thought of their
well-being.
To my sweet sweet children and children-in-law, I send you thanks
beyond words for keeping their pictures on websites and for
making the decided efforts to include us as”someone special” in
your lives and theirs.
Suzanne, Kelly, Amy, Valerie…Happy Mother’s Day. You are the
best.
To my youngest Lisa, who is ready to strike out on her own and
boldly make her own claim to fame, I love you and believe in you
so. You have given more than you have taken. You are a
wonderfully good, good woman.
I adore you all, love Mom.
P.S. To all the moms who need someone to say “Well done”…I’m
here to tell you that you are doin’ good. Keep the faith. It will all
work out. THEY are worth it.
And to all the gramma wannabees…find a little one to love. You
can search for ones that are gramma wannahaves. They are at
schools and would treasure someone to read to them…they are at
homeless shelters and would love an open hand of grace…they
are in hospitals as they struggle with illness. They are worth it,
too. Happy Momma’s Day to you all.
Love, Cookie
May 15th, 2008 at 2:14 am
As a mom, it’s fun having grandparents who are so crazy about my daughter. Our daughter will be fortunate to have so many people in her life who care so much for her.
I do wish that her poop didn’t stink when I was changing her diapers.