A week from today..

My son left 13 years ago for the Air Force. He has had a wonderful career and visited home fairly regularly. But I am a mom. Above all. With a heart that craves my children in close proximity. Maybe it makes me weird, but I don't care. My son is moving home. I am ecstatic. The bedroom is cleared out. Ready for him to settle in. Now, in my heart, I know he is moving home very temporarily, but I intend to take advantage of this tiny window of opportunity. I intend to remind him how precious he is to me. How proud of him I am and always have been.
I am looking forward to cooking for him and doing little things. Oh, I know it will get old and that we'll have some trials. But please bear with me while I take advantage of this time. For the past thirteen years I have wept as he was deployed to Saudi Arabia and I didn't hear from him for months. I have cried hidden tears on Christmases and Thanksgivings while the family gathered and he was somewhere else and unable to come home. The sadness of not seeing my granddaughter until she was about 6 months old because they were in Alaska at the time. Yes, he is going to have some rough times. His wife left in January and a huge part of his getting out of the military is to be with family again. But I am here, with a mother's heart, waiting and loving. Six more days. And a few hours...My firstborn...home finally. Thank You Father.

My heart longs for Thee

This summer our six year old grandson,Nathan always insisted on swimming til he ran out of "gas". Here he is getting some TLC from his number one fan. (Me.) He and I have this thing we do, well I've done it with my kids for thirty years, even though they are adults now. When we have to be separated, we always run to the windows. We point to our eyes , then our hearts, then to each other, whoever does it last has to hold up two fingers. And we always laugh. Our own version of signing "I love you."My kids did it from school bus windows, from across the yard, at night as the last kisses and hugs and tucking in was taking place. It's a family tradition of the nicest kind.

Nathan, being Nathan had to learn it with his own flair. A few weeks ago we were doing that and I added the two fingers up (two) of course meaning too. He ran back to the car and signed I love you, and held up four fingers. More than two. I adore this boy. Totally. Much more than four. On his birthday card later in the week, I wrote I love you more than four. He giggled. So now we have a new secret thing we do..just us. Our own language of love.

Tonight as I sit here writing, I am thinking of how much I love Him. Certainly, much more than four, but not as deeply as I long to love Him, the One who guards my steps. I once read that inside each of us is a God sized hole..I think that's only partially true. Inside each of us is a space just made for God, then he comes along and fills it and keeps adding and adding. Always more than we would have ever asked for, more than we knew He would. I am amazed by a Heavenly Father who loves me more than I know I can be loved. With a grateful heart, I continue to learn and to lean.

Nathan's Blessing...honestly. I just had to share it with you.

"God is Great. God is Good. For Our Blessings.(he refuses to say 'let us thank Him') For our food. I hope this tastes ok. Thanks God. Amen."

Just about says it all, but one of these days his mother is gonna brain him for the 'hope this tastes ok' bit, it aggravates her every single time. But then, I think that's part of why he says it. Sometimes He gets wordy and adds a whole big thing about God watching the people who don't have any food and people who are mean to each other and people who nobody loves. Sometimes he asks God to help the people who are left alone on earth now that someone they love has died.I keep my eyes closed a bit longer when he prays like that..it lets the tears dry a bit. Kisses to my sweet little Nathan and praise to the Father who blessed our family with him. Nathan has been teaching us all lessons on love for six wonderful years. Pure and sweet as only a child can do. Thank You Father.

struggles, resolutions, blessings.

Daily, God is making me thankful for the little things in my life, as I stated in my previous entry. My dear, sister of my heart, Deb, has been ill with a cold, then last night we had a bit of a scare.I'll leave the telling of it up to her, but suffice it to say, I have had some lightbulb moments today because of it. First of all, I confess, I trust few women. Unfortunately my experiences with women in the nursing profession has usually been one of superficial friendships and short-lived alliances. I guess in retrospect, that was been pretty much the story of my life with friends in my twenties, and thirties. Over the past few weeks, Our Lord has made it clear to me, I am blessed with friends of tremendous quality. My cup runneth over.

So, today I want to list some of the realizations being a mature friend and having mature friends has given me. It's just a start...

Having a true friend means

I don't have to worry about being alone. If we need a sisterly hug, it's just a simple matter of a call or an email.
She likes my yucchy clothes that are old and worn but ever so comfortable, I like her baggy tees too. It makes us, us. And the 80's are still in style. So are the 70's if the size is right.
All of our kids are perfect and in the rare instance they aren't we simply reassure each other they will be fine..and they are. Ditto husband. Ditto mothers.
Her friends are mine and my friends are hers and if any person doesn't treat one of us kindly, they will probably get a dirty look from the other.
She listens while I audibly think through doctrine issues, music questions and medical problems. She knows the difference between seeking guidance and just venting.
Five minutes laughing with her is better than any antidepressant ever created. Period.
She doesn't laugh at my sudden urge to have long hair one more time before I get old, and she doesn't kindly point out that age 50 is well on the way. Or that long hair won't make me thirty again.
We can sit and crochet quietly together...saying nothing and hearing each other perfectly.
Sharing a pact to speak only positives about our spouses not only strengthens our marriages, but solidifies our friendship.
I understand her tears. She understands I can't cry. It's all ok.
We can openly gush about how we love the Lord.
We can complain about the total lack of a good support bra without underwire that is affordable and lasts at least 500 washings. Now how many others would get that?
We know time will change us, so we are making memories today. Each day.
Nothing is off bounds to talk about..boogers, facial hair, hot flashes...

I love being imperfect with my friend. It's ok, it's something we have in common. Thanks Deb, You are a jewel and I'm so blessed to call you friend.
Hugs to all other friends too. I can't wait to meet you...I bet God is smiling at our laughter...

...the little things.

This morning I am thankful for the little things. This morning Dave took me to breakfast at the local Stone Arch restaurant. The french toast was just the right shade, the ham perfectly salty/sweet and the coffee deeply flavored and piping hot. It's an "up" day and for that I am thankful. I came home and wrote six emails to friends and relatives with my trust dog lying at my feet. Nathan was over this morning for his half hour with grandma and was as always, delightful. Is it cold out? You betcha. Is my house perfect? Not in this lifetime. Am I having a good hair day? I'm laughing at that one too hard to type...well, you get the pic. But is life, real LIFE good? Mostly. Dave is working, I slept over three hours last night without pain. Deb visited yesterday and was delightful as always. Joyce called an uplifted me with her own unique brand of sunshine. And most of all, I am HIS. The God who knows me and loves me anyhow. So, for today, I am thankful for the little things. Like you.