A Ticking Clock

We are heading home today after a wonderful time in Calgary. The "official" reason for our visit this time was to look after our grandson while his parents were away. We are fortunate that our granddaughter and her parents live just twenty minutes away so we have been blessed to have been able to spend time with both of them.

It seems that each time we are hear I hear the faint sound of a ticking clock counting down the minutes until we have to leave. Every day, every hour, every minute, every second we spend here is so precious.

I hear the ticking clock more often these days - even when we are not here.

Perhaps part of the reason is that I will turn fifty-two in a few months and my mom died suddenly at age fifty-five. I can't help but think about her and what dreams and hopes she may have had when she was fifty-two and all that she missed out on.

She adored my children, her grandchildren, as much as I adore my own grandchildren. It breaks my heart that she died so young and did not have the opportunity to see Michael and Laurinda grow up; just as it breaks my heart to consider not having that opportunity with Makiya and Jaxon. It's one of the reasons I started paying more attention to my health, and it's another reason I want to retire early so I can spend more time with them.

Sometimes the sound of the ticking clock is so loud that I forget to stop and enjoy the small, seemingly insignificant, moments that each day brings.

This week I have enjoyed time reading to the grands, playing with them, taking them for walks, and sitting an amazement at how much that have grown and changed in the short time since I saw them last. I have also been blessed to have been able to spend time talking with Laurinda about things that are important to each of us, though those precious moments seem to have been so brief.

I took time to appreciate the beauty of fallen fall leaves, the crunching sound they make when you walk through them, smile at black squirrels running across a yard, laugh as a jack rabbit caught the attention of my grandson, breath in cool morning air, and appreciate the sun on my skin on unseasonably-warm afternoons.

The clock continues to count down; I am filled with gratitude that the moments between each tick-tock are filled with wonder and beauty and family.

Happy Birthday, Laurinda!

Thirty-two years ago today, at 11:24 in the morning this sweet little girl was born!

She weighted 9 lbs 12 oz, she had a lot of black hair, and she was the first human being I every saw who shared my DNA.

  

Laurinda is a precious gift;

she is both my daughter and my friend.

Laurinda is a gifted writer, an avid reader, and a creative photographer.

She is an amazing mother.

One of the greatest sources of pride and joy in my life has been watching Laurinda blossom into motherhood.

She is introspective and comfortable with solitude.

I am often blown away by wisdom she shares in posts on her Seasons of Life blog.

Happy Birthday, Laurinda!

I am proud of you in more ways than you could imagine.

Happy Birthday, Michael!

Thirty years ago today this smiling baby boy was born! I was looking through his baby book yesterday and was flooded with memories of that day.

The book records that he arrived at 5:24 pm on Thursday, September 25, 1980. He weighted 8 lbs 15 ounces and he was 21 inches long. He had black hair and deep blue eyes.

We brought him home three days after he was born and Grandma Brauer (my mom) was there. "We came home around noon and it was a beautiful day. Michael just slept all the time. Everyone thought he was just darling and Laurinda gave him a big kiss!"

Michael is a joy and a delight to have for a son. 

He has always had a goofy sense of humor and delights in making people laugh, he is tender-hearted and generous, he is gifted as a carpenter, he is an outstanding cook. 

He loves baseball (New York Yankees) and hockey (Vancouver Canucks). He is an avid reader (Wilbur Smith and Clive Cussler).

What a handsome young man he has turned out to be!

Happy Birthday, Son.

I'm proud of you today and every day.

Saying "Yes"

The other night I was watching TLC's Say Yes to the Dress; it's a guilty pleasure that I indulge in every once in a while. For the sake of those who may not have seen it, it portrays a bride-to-be's experience of selecting her wedding dress. There are always a few "helpers" that come along to help the bride select the perfect dress, and on the episode I just watched, it was mothers of the bride-to-be who were there. One mother was so critical that it made me want to cry for her daughter.

I couldn't help but remember when Laurinda and I went shopping for her wedding dress. That shopping trip ranks up with one of the best days of my life! When she chose the dress that was going to be hers, I managed to snap a picture before we found out that taking pictures in the bridal store were strictly taboo!

On her wedding day she was a beautiful bride wearing that dress and jewelery that had belonged to my mom. If only mom had lived long enough to see her granddaughter marry. I imagine we both would have been blubbering fools as we watched the bride walk toward her future husband!

My daughter and her husband celebrated their fourth wedding anniversary this week and she has written wise words about how the magic of the wedding transforms into to a deeper commitment as the years go by on her blog.

Getting married is much more than saying yes to a dress, it's saying yes to hard work, commitment, dedication, love, and tons of fun and laughter. 

Mother's Hands

I have worn contact lenses since I was a teenager and few years ago I got reading glasses to wear over my contacts for seeing things close up. 

First thing in the morning when my eyes are naked, so to speak, without the benefit of a corrective lens of any kind I see some things clearest of all and sometimes what I see startles me. Like the other morning when I saw my hands and realized that they are no longer the hands of a young woman.

At first I was somewhat dismayed to find that my hands have aged along with the rest of my body. Fine lines crisscross the back at all angles; flesh that was once taut and firm is now softer and lies in soft folds at the base of my fingers; a bluish vein snakes a prominent path from one side to the other.

I recognized the hands as those of my mother. Mom was almost exactly four years older than I am today when she passed away. It has been twenty-five years since I saw her, I barely recall what her voice sounded like, yet I recognized her hands when I saw them that morning.

They were the hands that fed me, bathed me, caressed me, played with me, and even occasionally spanked me. They were the hands that cooked for our family, cleaned our home, painted our walls, mowed our lawn, and planted gladiola bulbs in the spring. They were the hands that made crumb cake, banana bread, peanut butter cookies, and heavy brandy-soaked Christmas cake. They were the hands that sewed dresses and knit mittens and scarves. They were the hands that poured peroxide on my skinned knees and held me when I cried. They were the hands that smelled like Jergens hand lotion.

They were the hands that held my mother’s head in them as she wept when she was told that my father had died. They were the hands that held mine and my sister’s when we walked to the front of the sanctuary to stand before his casket on that surreal day when he was laid to rest.

My hands, the hands of a woman who is no longer young, have their own story.  Tucked within the wrinkles and folds is the story of my life.  What point would there be in longing for the youthful hands I once hand or despairing over the changes that have taken place? 

After all, my hands are also the hands of a mother.

What Matters Most

We're Off!

We're about to begin another road trip!  It makes me feel sad when we are getting ready to go somewhere and the girls aren't coming. The way they look at us with their beautiful big eyes, I am sure they sense we're leaving them behind. I know that they'll be well taken care of and have lots of fun with their pal Lisa though!

This time tomorrow I plan to have a granddaughter on my lap, and I'm looking forward to snuggling my grandson a short time later.  We're blessed.

We're heading off to Manderley on Sunday morning.  Stay tuned for pictures and perhaps much more!

A Sweet, Sweet Sound

While I was Skyping with Laurinda and Makiya today something precious happened. 

Makiya said "grandma"!  Then she said it again!

She made my day!

Zoo Day!

It was a beautiful day here in Baby-Land and we all went to the zoo!

Going to the zoo for the first time as a grandma was a different experience. I'm vaguely remember seeing some animals, but what captivated this grandma the most was the smiles and giggles of my grandchildren.  And that's just the way it is meant to be.

Looking Forward

I have this picture on the wall beside my desk at home. There is a caption under it that reminds me to "Take care of this girl's grandma!" It serves as a reminder for me to try and eat right, get some exercise, and deal with stress more effectively.  I love this baby girl very much and I want to be around for a long time to watch her grow up and contribute to her life.

Starting tomorrow, Gerry and I are off on a journey!  It's been much too long since I have had this much time away from work and believe me when I tell you that I am long overdue!

I am looking forward to a visit with my BFF on Friday - time spent with her is always food for my soul.  There is no one quite like her and I know we're going to have so much to talk about (and not enough time to get it all in).

I'm looking forward to a road trip with my husband that provides lots of time for us to talk and listen to music that we like. And when he wants to turn the satellite radio to the 60's station, I'll have my iPod tuned into some SCN Podcasts.  I've got my SCN tote bag packed with all sorts of necessities like lotion, lip balm, special pens and pencils and my notebook.  I've tucked in a few chapters from my book and plan to get some editing and rewriting done as well.

I'm looking forward to seeing Brandon and Nicole and Jaxon and Laurinda and Gord and Makiya!  Words can't express how much I love this family of mine.  The babies (well, I guess they're actually toddlers now) will have grown so much since I saw them a few months ago.  Skype is wonderful, but it's no substitute for the real thing.

I'm looking forward to standing on the prairie, closing my eyes, and taking a deep breath. I'm looking forward to gazing over the vast prairie landscape and just letting go. I'm looking forward to seeing the property that we have been looking at only in pictures for the past few months.

I'm looking forward...Oh how I'm looking forward....

New Kid On the Block

There is a new kid on the blog-o-sphere today! I hope you all will pop over to Laurinda's Seasons of Life and encourage her as she begins her blogging journey.

I'm proud of her and only a little bit biased!

Gratitude on a Spring Afternoon

Do you remember a hot summer day when you were a kid and your best friend gave you just a lick of a her orange Popsicle? Remember how sweet it tasted and how you wished you could have more?

That's how I felt today. The sun has been shining all day, there isn't a cloud in the sky, and the temperature is almost 60 degrees.

This afternoon I put on a pair of capri pants, dug out a pair of flip-flops, and took the girls for a walk around the neighborhood. As we walked I heard the drone of lawn mowers as the first cut of the year took place, I saw cherry blossoms beginning to bloom and women puttering around in their gardens.

I breathed deeply and slowly trying to take it all in - trying to get enough to satisfy me in case this was to be the last day like this for a while.  The weather man tells me that we will enjoy similar weather for the entire weekend but he's been known to be wrong.

When I got home I grabbed my camera to take a few pictures around the yard to share with you.  The crocus and daffodils are blooming!

The heather has been blooming for a while now - hardy creature that she is.

Even the clamatis I planted last summer is beginning to show signs of life.                                     

I took a broom and swept away cobwebs and stray dead leaves from my entry way.  It's all ready for pots of flowers now!

Meanwhile back in Baby Land where my heart truly is, Makiya was out for a walk with her Mommy!

So much to be thankful for....

Seeing Clearly

They're everywhere and I spend a small fortune buying new ones.  Corrective lenses.  I've written about this subject before but last night I saw something with a whole new perspective (pun intended). 

During the day I wear contact lenses.  The problem with that is that, while my distance vision is good, I can't see well enough to read anything close to me or to clearly work on my computer.  So, I have computer glasses that I keep at my desk, and another pair of fancy schmancy glasses that I take to meetings that allow me to read paperwork in front of me but still clearly see other faces in the meeting.

I have a (very expensive) pair of progressive lenses that I wear when I'm not wearing my contacts.  With those babies I can see far and I can see near.  I usually only wear those at home though. 

I carry a pair in my purse so I can read menus and labels when I am shopping.

I have a pair in my home office, a pair in my knitting box, a pair in the bathroom, and a pair in the kitchen. 

Last night as I was getting ready for bed I took out my contact lenses stood for a moment looking at the orchid that Gerry had given me a few days ago. Without the benefit of corrective lenses of any kind, I saw those beautiful blooms with a clarity that I had not seen before. They were stunning!

With my aging eyes naked, so to speak, I found that my vision for things right in front of my face is crystal clear.  Being the introspective sort that I am I wondered if there was a lesson there for me.

I wonder, as we get older, if we're meant not to focus more on what's "out there" but to turn our eyes and our attention to that which is right in front of us. Important things like family, friends, and that which we were meant to spend our time on.

Could it be that there comes a time when we are meant to stop driving so hard to attain some of those goals we had when we were younger? 

Could it be that it's okay to take the time to play with a baby, read a book, take a nap, and marvel at the beauty of an orchid?

A Short Life, Long Remembered

Last night I dreamed about Mom.  She's been gone for twenty-five years and it was bittersweet to see her face again like it was just yesterday when I saw her last.  We never lose that place in our hearts that our mom occupies. 

In the dream it was her birthday and we were getting ready for a big birthday celebration. In reality, I'm not aware of her ever having a big celebration in her honor.  She was a private woman, fun-loving in her own way.  She didn't share her thoughts and feelings openly; those few times I can remember doing so are like nuggets of gold in my memories.

She had simple dreams, never travelled far from home, and went without so her children could go with.  She wasn't a powerful career-woman and wasn't wealthy.  She married at eighteen, was widowed at fifty-three, and died at fifty-five.

Her life was all too short but the impression she left remains. I speak of her to my children often, though as time goes by their memory of her is fading.  I like to think that I am keeping her alive in their hearts by sharing stories and memories that will become a part of them as well.

One day, Lord willing, I will tell Makiya about the simple, loving woman who was her great-grandmother.

Good to be home.....

...well, kind of.  I have been home about an hour.  I miss these beautiful faces already!

Grandma's Evening

I am rushing around - my thoughts one step ahead of my steps.  Remember such-and-such, I remind myself. And with that I am hurrying downstairs to get something important.  Then back upstairs, my arms full of that such-and-such as well as a few other things that I meant to pick up.

My cell phone chimes and I look down at the number displayed on the front.  Realizing who is calling, I quickly pick up the phone.  Hello! I smile as I speak like an exited small child just before Christmas.  We speak, make plans, make notes, and say goodbye for the night. 

I'm back running again.  Into the closet where I stand looking at the hangers filled with clothing.  What to choose?  Then I chide myself for thinking, yet again, that I have nothing to wear.  I hurry back to the guest room where my suitcase lays open on the bed waiting for me to make a decision on what to take.  Back into the bathroom, thinking, pondering, planning.  What do I need to take? Which lotion should I pack?

Remember your passport.

Remember your itinerary.

Don't forget the GPS.

Is everything going to fit into that one piece of luggage, given that the other one is filled with other things meant for the babies that I love?

Such is the evening of a grandma on the night before she boards the plane to visit those she loves.  A daughter, a son-in-love, a son, a daughter-in-love and, most wonderful of all, a granddaughter and a grandson.

How will I sleep tonight with such anticipation running through my mind?  Doesn't matter.  Tomorrow I will hold my grandchildren!

Two Hearts....One Baby....Multiple Blessings

Yesterday I read something that I have waited fifty years to read. I read my adoption file.
I read detailed descriptions of myself as a baby and learned that I spent the first four months of my life in a foster home, with the exception of one month when I was hospitalized for medical tests.
I learned that I was taken into the custody of Social Services when I was one week old. The notes indicate that "Mother is quite disturbed in separation from child." Those words, perhaps more than any other in the file, touched me as I learned that she really did care about me.
I read a transcript of when my birth-mother went before the court (as was the custom then) to surrender her rights to me. I learned that I was in that courtroom at the time. When asked if she intended to keep me, she replied "I would like to but I can't". When asked why she felt that she was not able to look after me she responded "because I would rather she had two parents instead of one" and "it's not what I want, it's what's best for her".
Case notes taken on the day that I was placed for probationary adoption indicate that "The baby looked very lovely in a little blue dress and was the picture of healthy contented baby. Her new parents were very pleased with her. The placement was comfortable and relaxed." The notes go on to say that "The foster mother is to be commended on the job she has done with this baby".
Today I realize how very blessed I have been. The anger I once had toward my birth-mother has vanished and has been replaced with gratitude and compassion. As I read notes about my adoptive mom, my REAL mom, I imagined how the twenty-nine year old woman must have felt to receive such precious gift. Of course I had been told stories, but there is something different about reading it in an impartial case file. Finally, I am thankful for the unnamed foster mother who took such good care of me in the first months of my life.
When Mom and Dad married he gave her a gold locket. She gave me that locket when I was a teenager and I've always treasured it. A few years ago, circumstances were such that I came into possession of a trunk that contained things that had belonged to my birth-mother. In that trunk was an almost identical locket. I told my husband that he would know that I was healed from the past when I was able to wear that locket.
Tomorrow I am going shopping for a chain that will hold both lockets together.

What Matters

I spent two days in the hospital unexpectedly last week. There is nothing like two days of poking, prodding, not sleeping, not eating, and other unmentionable things to make one appreciate the finer things in life.

I took a walk at lunch time today. (What?! I can hear you exclaim! You never take lunch breaks!) There are beautiful trails in and amongst the woods where my office is that I never even knew existed before today!

As I prepared dinner tonight I consciously made myself slow down and appreciate each moment. (It's true, making dinner can actually be a restful and fulfilling activity.) As I peeled the squash and scooped out the seeds, I smelled childhood. It wasn't my own childhood, but the childhood I experienced through the lives of my children. I was reminded of countless pumpkins we had cleaned and carved over the years. Special, simple, memories.

Perhaps best of all, I talked to Makiya on the phone. I babbled away to her and she babbled right back. We talked about important stuff....grandma stuff.

I am being constantly reminded lately that it is these things that matter most, and if I don't slow down and take the time to see them, they will be gone in an instant.

What simple things are you appreciating today?

Dads

Tomorrow is Father's Day. My own Dad has been gone for twenty-five years. Here are a few tidbits that I remember about my Dad.

If you asked Dad now many were in his family he would say that he had six sisters and every one of them had a brother. At first you may think that there were twelve in his family, but in reality there were six girls and one boy! Dad was the brother to each of this sisters. He used to get a kick out of telling that one.

• Dad had many quips, quotes and little dittys that he would share out of the blue. Here is one:
  
  Equine quadrupeds may indubitably be induced to approach that well-known standard of specific gravity, but not necessarily be induced to imbibe thereof. (You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink)

• Dad's nickname for me was Princess.

• The last words that Dad ever said to me were "I love you, Princess".

Here are some other Dad's that I am blessed to have in my life.


When I got married, not only did I get an amazing husband, I also got another Dad. My father-in-love has a gentle and loving spirit and he is one of the most patient men I know.


He raised fine children, one of whom I am proud to call "husband"!


Brandon was another gift I received when I married my husband. It has been a joy to watch him grow into the man that he has become. He is an excellent husband and father and I am proud to call him "son"!


Gord won my heart forever when he married my daughter. As I watched him look at her in her wedding dress, and saw the tears fall down his cheek, I fell in love with this young man. He treasures my daughter. I will never forget the look on his face as he hurried down a hospital hall saying "It's a girl...and she's beautiful!".
Father's Day is the perfect time to tell all the "Dad's" in your life how much you love and appreciate them!