The Day

October 11^th commemorated our youngest granddaughter’s first birthday, but her celebration was postponed since more important things were happening - like her mother’s labor pains that would lead to the early birthing of a little brother on the 12th.

Today was finally The Day to spotlight The Birthday Girl and celebrate her first year of life! She wore twin ponytails and a dress with a sparkly pink overlay to the skirt.  

It was The Day to enjoy snazzy balloons, chocolate cake, a few gifts, and party guests - The Day for siblings and their friends to play a game on the deck of the magical backyard tree house.

It was The Day for the Birthday Girl’s 3-year-old sister - the decisive, outspoken one - to dress as a ladybug with blue butterfly wings and narrow, doll-sized sunglasses.

It was The Day for the 5-year-old sister - the dancer - to choreograph her way through the party in a ballet tutu.

It was The Day for the 7-year-old sister - the creative artist - to draw animated portraitures on balloons.

AND, it was The Day for the brand new baby brother to be more alert and watchful than he’s been in his entire short life of two weeks, for him to see, hear, and sense what life is all about.

What a Day it has been!

Nature Show

Yesterday I led an expedition with three grand-girls (ages 7, 5, and 3) trailing behind: a glorified walk around the city block and beyond.  Our goal was to search for interesting treasures accessible to us without straying far from the sidewalk.  Raindrops chased us home prematurely, and yet our half-full shopping bag held enough interesting leaves, lichens, nuts and berries to provide entertainment for quite a while.   

Inside at the kitchen table, we staged a display - actually what the girls called a “nature show.”  It turned out to be a very artsy project, beautiful in design and layout. Such a worthwhile way to spend an afternoon with these eager explorers and their “finds.”

Here and There

It’s Kidville here at our daughter’s house, where pattering bare feet and cherub voices echo constantly, and spontaneous hugs are abundant. Baby brother has joined the girly clan of four sisters – such a precious little guy - and is the center of their attention, although Grampa and I also get plenty. 

Today I broke away from this animated crew to walk the path around the perimeter of a nearby park.  It was a quiet, peaceful environment, with only a warm breeze and clear blue sky as companions.

Dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, and drenched in sunshine, I circled the track twice.  As I headed back toward the house, a new text message arrived on my phone from a neighbor back home (up north).  She spoke of cold winds urging swarms of dead oak leaves to tumble to the ground and blanket the earth beneath a dramatically cloudy sky. Such a different reality!

It seems no small thing to be connected to both worlds – to belong in abiding ways both here (immersed in the vibrancy of children) and there (settled in our retirement lifestyle).  This evening I am grateful for the sheer vastness of the life experience, and for opportunities to wonder at the magnificence of it all.

Time to Get Going

The countdown is on as we head toward launch…to the other side of the moon!

Poppycock, you say. 

Of course you’re right. Our destination is actually the home of our daughter and son-in-law, a paltry 2,500 miles from here.  It just feels like outer space sometimes, especially during grandkid-crazed moments when I just want to pop over for a couple of hours and make yummie balls or do string art with the little darlins’. But anyway we’re driving, and you can’t drive a car to the moon, let alone beyond it.  So there’s the truth. The point is this: it’s time to go!

Our daughter is due to deliver her fifth child in a week - a boy this time, after four girls.  We want to be wise about timing, and arrive with a few days of breathing space, just in case this little fella decides to hurry the agenda.  He has already taunted his mother with a breech presentation, but compliantly turned head-down with a little help from a chiropractor. Currently he is practicing his karate in utero.

The goal is to help and encourage the family in whatever ways we can as everyone adjusts to the new arrival.  As the experienced old folks who have been in similar situations, I’m borrowing a friend’s motto: “Be who you needed when you were younger!”

We’ll also be blessed.  Abundantly so! That’s the way inter-generational family stuff like this works: enrichment matches or even exceeds investment, as giving and receiving stand on their heads until you almost can’t tell which is which. 

We’re off!

Beyond

My best friend from childhood became my “forever friend” in later years - a blonde cutie with an addictive chuckle that worked its way to my core, uplifting and encouraging me.  Although she passed away in May of 2013, her bright-and-shiny influence still lives on in that deep spot. Her birthday would have been in a few weeks. 

I miss her, and the stability of our relationship that spanned almost 6 decades.  I miss walking the 5-mile jaunt in the country near her home where we’d talk and talk and talk, and laugh as if we were kids again.  In some sense we were always the same – only older.

When walking the road by the lake last evening, I thought of her, and wished she could have been with me.  I snapped this picture with her in mind – a visual illustration of Ella Wheeler Wilcox’s poem entitled Beyond.  Rest in perfect peace, Senie Bug. I’ll join you someday, and we will walk together again. Until then, I’ll treasure memories that only you and I share, including that last precious conversation: http://bethbanter.blogspot.com/2013/05/normal_16.html

Beyond by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

It seemeth such a little way to me

Across to that strange country – the Beyond;

And yet, not strange, for it has grown to be

The home of those whom I am so fond,

They make it seem familiar and most dear,

As journeying friends bring distant regions near.

So close it lies, that when my sight is clear

I think I almost see the gleaming strand.

I know I feel those who have gone from here

Come near enough sometimes, to touch my hand.

I often think, but for our veiled eyes,

We should find heaven right round about us lies.

I cannot make it seem a day to dread,

When from this dear earth I shall journey out

To that still dear country of the dead,

And join the lost ones, so long dreamed about.

I love this world, yet shall I love to go

And meet the friends who wait for me, I know.

I never stand above a bier and see

The seal of death set on some well-loved face

But that I think ‘One more to welcome me,

When I shall cross the intervening space

Between this land and that one “over there”;

One more to make the strange Beyond seem fair.’

And so for me there is no sting to death,

And so the grave has lost its victory.

It is but crossing – with a bated breath,

And white, set face – a little strip of sea,

To find the loved ones waiting on the shore,

More beautiful, more precious than before.