My Granny told me that even though Uncle Tom is 70 years old, she still considers him her baby. This little one might be closing in on four, but he's got at least 67 more years to be my baby.
Ninety-three
See that pretty girl up there? That's my Granny. When I showed her this picture I had no idea that she would remember exactly when it had been taken, where she was, how she got there and what she was doing. But she did and it's a story that had me smiling for days.
It was 1938 and she was 16 years old. She had borrowed her boyfriend's car to play hooky from school and spend the day with friends at Blue Springs State Park in central Florida. I don't know about you, but the idea of my Granny, A) having a boyfriend besides my Pappy, or, B) using his car to skip school had never even crossed my mind. It should have though, because sass like she's got doesn't just come out of nowhere.
On February 19, she turned 93. Jimmy had to be out of town that week for work and I got the crazy idea to pack up the kids (and the dog!), pack up a party (complete with cake, balloons, and our birthday banners!), and trek to Florida to celebrate this beautiful lady. Our trip was delayed by a day due to ice, and there was a moment when I thought it would be best to scrap it altogether. I'll be honest, I've felt heavy laden and worn out, pretty weak and quite weary over these past few months and the ice storm flooded my mind with doubt as to whether or not an adventure of this magnitude was going to be a good idea for someone in my state. But, as always seems to be true, my wise husband knew what I really needed better than I did. He moved his own flight from Greenville to Atlanta so that he could stay later and get us safely on the road. He loaded the car for me and then drove it down our icy driveway so that I didn't have to. He blazed the trail down our untraveled road in front of me in his car so that I could follow his tire tracks. Then he filled the Suburban with gas and warmed me with a Starbucks latte and sent us on our way. By the time we got to Florida 11 (!!) hours later (lots of traffic, lots of wrecks, lots of rain), I was glad we had gone.
The next day will go down as one of the sweetest in recent times. Dad, Lisa and Blake came along for the fun and i was so glad that they were there. My family is all about a party, so the decorations went up before Granny even knew what was happening. She laughed in delighted surprise when she saw Travis taping the birthday banners onto her wall, she laughed again when I pulled out a "9" and a "3" candle for her cake (no, you're never too old to have your age for candles), and she cried sweet tears when she opened the gift Caroline had made for her.
We sang Happy Birthday, we ate cake and whipped cream and strawberries, the little boys played with the cars she had set out for them (the same cars her own little boys, and then their little boys and girls, had played with so many years ago), and we heard stories. Always, there are stories. I used to not pay close attention to the details of her stories; I hadn't yet learned how much they mattered. But now I hang on every word. Those stories help me understand my people better. They give me clues about who we all are and how we came to be ourselves. They remind me of the rare and beautiful love that has been grown into my family throughout generations. They teach me more about this precious lady that is my Granny. But mostly they are a sweet reminder to me of God's faithfulness to us. Her stories act as Stones of Remembrance that remind me, again and again, that God has been true to His promise to work all things, even the very hard things, out for the good of me and my family by using them to show us His goodness and cause us to love and trust Him more.
Last year she got sick and ended up in the hospital for a short time. Before we knew that her ailment was minor and that she would be fine, I was scared. It felt too soon after mom had died and it took me by surprise and I just didn't feel ready for her to go. My sweet Sam, sensing that I was sad, cheered me by saying, "I mean, I'm sure she'll be fine! It's not like she's old enough to die of old age or anything!" It worked; I laughed. And he was right! But if I've learned anything it's that we don't get to keep the things we love forever.
I wanted a few things out of our trip to Florida. I wanted to give the kids and myself a chance to re-focus. Spring fever had hit early, and life has felt especially hard in recent months, and I can be so focused on the tasks that I forget to look up. I felt as scattered in my own heart and mind as that last sentence read. Really, I wanted us all to look up and take a deep breath and see beyond our own walls. I wanted to show them, yet again, that this woman is special to me and that sometimes it's ok, even right, to drop everything and go to Florida for a party. I wanted her to feel as loved and adored as she is. I wanted to be with my Granny on her 93rd birthday. I'm so glad we went.
snow days
In our neck of the woods, snow days are a big deal. They aren't a guarantee every year, so when we hear that flurries are coming you can be sure that we break out the sleds and get the winter gear ready. The kids go to bed with anticipation building and the first sound I hear in the morning is either going to be whooping or groaning. On this morning the whooping sound came in the form of six kids scurrying to get their snow gear on. At 6:30 am. But I couldn't begrudge them their excitement and, even without having had my coffee, I laced up my own boots and joined them.
Conditions aren't always so perfect as they were on this beautiful morning. There was plenty of snow to make a nice, thick blanket for sledding down our new hills, and it was fluffy and powdery, which meant that snowballs could be thrown without anyone crying. That's always a bonus. Sadie joined in on the fun and loved the snow so much that we are considering adding "Husky" to the list of possibilities of her breed.
morning snow
The first of many
This weekend marked the beginning of what I anticipate will be a life-long practice with my sweet girl and a few of the lovely ladies in our family; Girl Weekend! While Jimmy and the older boys have taken camping trips here and there, Caroline and I had yet to get away for any mommy-daughter time, and what better way to get started than by bringing cousins along?
We picked Afton and Ponder up early from school and made the two hour drive to Atlanta for a night in a fancy hotel, lots of swimming, delicious food, uninterrupted girl talk (no brothers! no younger siblings!), late-night silliness and even a trip to the American Girl store. They were such lovely young ladies and it was a sweet glimpse into what our relationships with our daughters and their relationships with each other will continue to grow into over the coming years.
swish!
milk
love and laundry
Every Tuesday, my girl and I have a date. While I gather all of the clean laundry from Monday's washing marathon, she gets us set up with our friends Lizzy and Mr. Darcy. The fact that she's old enough to enjoy Jane Austen makes me teary (both with joy and nostalgia). And laundry folding just got a whole lot more fun.
new skills
We've never had a baby who was three. Our babies always stop being the baby right around two, so this youngest-as-capable-helper thing is very new to me. On this morning, Eli was the first to come join me on the couch. In an effort to delay my start time, I suggested to him that maybe he might surprise Ben and Jack by putting the silverware away before they got up. The dishwasher is their standing job and they fight about who has to do the silverware every. single. morning. Anyway, I heard him banging around in there for way longer than it would take even the baby to put away the silverware, but I was getting to finish my Bible reading and my coffee, so I left him to his work.
He came to get me after a few minutes with a huge smile on his sweet face and a command to close my eyes and follow him. He led me to the dishwasher, told me to open my eyes, and proudly showed me that he had unloaded the entire thing. Without being asked. All by himself. Of course, I did the needful and gushed all over him like any good mother knows to do. But I'd be lying if I said that it wasn't a bittersweet little moment that we had in the kitchen this morning as I saw my baby growing up before my eyes.
The tears couldn't stay for long though, and were quickly replaced by laughter when Jack and Ben saw the good deed and cheered.
joy in the ordinary
There are few things more ordinary around here than spelling lessons. That's what I was in the middle of today when I looked up and saw a reflection of my sweet, precocious Jack sitting in the next room, happily working on a project of his own making. It was a little bit of joy in an otherwise very ordinary moment.