Close Your Eyes

I have the sweetest little grand daughter ever. She melts my heart and gets away with things she really shouldn't...but that angelic little smile; the minxy little grin; that tender little voice...I just cannot resist. Miss J tends to be a little bossy, so her loving, patient momma does try to keep her in check just so she doesn't take over every situation. But she also balances that by letting her have her way plenty of times so she can hone her leadership tendencies! (She's a good momma' my girl!) 

Lunchtime yesterday was a case in point.

"I want to pray," announced three year old Miss J as we settled in to munch on our soup and sandwiches. There were no ifs, ands or buts...she was going to deliver the lunchtime sermon and we had better just bow and listen.

"Oh the Lord is Good to Me, is what I'm gonna' do," Miss J said. She reached out her soft little hands. My hungry grandson, their momma and I joined together, bowed our heads and closed our eyes [well, at least Mr. T and I did.] So Jocelyn started off in her adorable & pleasant voice:

"Oh the Lord is good to me
And so I thank Him for,
For giving me..."
All of a sudden without skipping a beat Jocelyn said

"...Mom, close your eyes!
...the things I need; the sun and the rain
And the appleseed, the Lord is good to me!"

I could barely keep from guffawing through the Amen.

Talk about a chip of the old block. I know many times Mommy, in her wonderful way of teaching her young ones, has told the children to close their eyes when they pray. Obviously the lesson sank in. Miss J, because she was in charge of covering the meal in prayer, also thought it her role to keep one eye open for the blighters who might not be fully focussing. Momma Bear was found out!

So when Miss J gave us the nod to release our prayerful pose, both Momma and Grandma headed straight to the walk-in pantry for a moment to compose ourselves. Oh my, I cannot wait until this little lass gets married. Grandma has her hand up to be the MC!

Lost and Found

As I foraged through my computer maze, trying to clean out some of the accumulated 'stuff,' I came across this in a gmail draft folder. Not sure why I didn't post it at the time. It looks like I wrote it three years ago - likely at the end of my chemotherapy. Care to read my heart at the time? Here goes:



Big Poppa 3 years later after I wrote
this and he's still going strong!



I am so blessed that my wonderful 82 year old Dad is a mere breath away and living amazingly well - alone and only a few hours drive from Drayton. Since my little burp on the health richter scale, I don't see him enough, and I miss him, but thank goodness we stay in touch. My other sisters have stepped in and are keeping an eye, which is comfort to me When Mom died, we were all lost without her. She was the matriarch, the backbone and the driving force for our family. Dad found it tough, being alone and dealing with the grief and sadness

I miss my mother a lot. No matter how old one gets, there's just something about a mother's arms that make things seem a little better. Since being diagnosed with cancer, I have secretly longed to be rocked and to be soothed and to be held close to my mother's heart. But that never happened. Mom's heart failed. On July 20th, 2007, Mom breathed her last and she went to be with Jesus. That was nine months before I even had an inkling about my journey into the sea of untoward cells and the seemingly endless rounds of chemotherapy.

I am glad Mom was not around to see me travel down this cancer road, although I will admit that I selfishly desired the comfort and consolation only a Mom can offer. Mom's frail heart was wearing out and I had been spending quite a long time caring for her. I can't help thinking now how grateful I am that Mom did not have to know and worry about me being sick. There were times when she would tell me that I was making myself sick. She would admonish me and remind me that I needed to take care of myself. I would laugh at her and hug her and then she would give me that wonderful maternal look. Yes I miss my mother. I look forward to that wonderful reunion one day. I will hug her and love her and tell her 'thanks.' (I don't think I did that enough.) Go call or hug your mom. Tell her you love her; that you are sorry; that you miss her; that you are thankful for all that she did for you. You won't regret it, for we never know when darkness will come.

*************

Still wondering why I didn't share this. Probably meant to...the chemo knocked out a few of my favourite memory cells, I guess...

Isaiah 40:31 "But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary, and they shall walk and not faint."