Heard Ya; loud and clear

This post is going to take a little back story
Here it is:
the baby daughter once took her chances with roommate assignment for on-campus housing. Previously she had roomed with fellow members of her college tennis team. When she decided to transfer to the college where her then boyfriend was attending and where she knew no one else, the automatic selection thing was her only option.
The roommate she was assigned was, then, a stranger. But not for long. The two bonded so quickly and so firmly that people would later wonder that they had not known each other for the whole of their lives. The family of one became like family to the other.
Once, when they showed up at the hospital to wait the birth of  a new family member, they entertained those gathered by supplying the endings to family stories they had heard so often that they knew them by heart.
When it came time for one of them to leave for residency training after medical school, they were inconsolable.  One of them reckoned their state to be not unlike a divorce, so long had they lived together and so much had they shared.
Just a few weeks after one of them moving out of the apartment they shared all through graduate school one of them moved across the state and the other just across town, a soul crushing blow came to one and thus the other.
There were many calls and Facetime chats, emails, snap chats, and texts in the days that followed the big move but none caused them to feel the distance between them like an early morning call regarding the death of one of their mothers.
The one stayed on the phone with the other trying to keep her calm until family could reach her at the intern site where she was working.
The other then headed as hard and fast as she could to her grieving friend. The experiences they'd shared previously had done little to prepare them for this rough road.  So sad was the one she could scarcely see light. The days were dark and stormy and the other was determined to find some thing, anything, that would help her friend survive the loss that seemed want to do her in.
Then, there it was. A rainbow. A beautiful double rainbow. The little pearl white bug there to the right of the photo is what they were riding in when the bow appeared in the sky.
That rainbow was just one of several that appeared in the sky that week. Together, the former roommates/forever friends gloried in each one, as did various friends and family members they shared their excitement in the middle of grievous loss and pain with.
When I heard the story, I came to an immediate belief and understanding that the Hand of God Himself painting those rainbows. His Hand also put those two together: first in a college apartment and now in life.
For me, there's just no other explanation.
As far as the rainbow, my first thought is the one I used for the title of this post. I heard His Voice in this story, just as I see His Hand; and that most clearly.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Counting redbuds

 The grandbaby's first dance competition of the season was this weekend. The Hub and I drove up to watch what was one of the best group of dancers/dancers I've seen. That includes, of course, the grandbaby and her group, but there were lots of others. These little chicks danced their hearts out. We brought her home with us as her sister still had dances to dance in the upper age divisions. She was tired and a bit cranky. The closer we got to home the worse it got.  I did with her, finally, what I once did with my own children, started a game of I Spy. The redbuds are just starting to fade. I wish their blooming season was longer. This year it seemed particularly short, somehow.  There were just glimpses of their once rich color through the wooded areas we passed along the road. We began counting them and soon we were home. A warm bath, some comfy pajamas and a movie to be watched from my bed fixed what out game had begun to cure. Those are some of my favorite things. They act like a balm on my fatigue and ill humor. And for one small time each year, so do the redbuds...
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

These little beauties

This is the formal program portrait of five little girls who as a group are known as the "minis." They are dancers.  If the number of awards they brought home last weekend is any indication (and I say it is) they are very good dancers. (Notice I didn't make that proclamation on my own because I know full well I have a bias where they are concerned.) They are sweet and spunky. They squabble sometimes amongst themselves yet they are fiercely loyal to each other when push comes to shove. They have spent long hours in the studio through the fall and winter months getting ready for this new season. I am expecting great things from them this season and in life. Maybe having such strong expectations of first and second graders seems odd, but I have seen their character. I have seen their tenacity when they were exhausted. I have seen their determination when they were sore and frustrated from time, not just in the dance studio, but also in the gym, where they worked to perfect extra skills required to achieve excellence. I am persuaded that these traits parlay quite often into life skills that will serve them and this world we live in well. How glorious to be an observer of this process. note: credit for the group photo belongs to the also beautiful and talented C.R. Berry.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

My pretty baby

My baby is pretty and sweet and very smart. She is also a very good friend.
I know I cannot be objective where she is concerned so I will tell you this story and see if you don't agree.
About this time last week we learned that her the mother of her longtime friend and roommate had died very suddenly. My baby gets in her little pearl white vw bug and heads out immediately in the direction of her best good friend. She kept her on the phone until family reached her and then called her dad and I to let us know where she was and why.
When we attended the memorial service on Friday, here is what we were told by various members of the family and others close to them.

My baby:
helped with the funeral arrangements, including the program.
she helped select burial clothing, the casket and flowers to rest on it.
she accompanied family to the cemetery where a plot was selected.
she wrote the eulogy.
she fielded calls.
she sat up with, and laughed with and cried with her friend and the rest of the family.

On Saturday, even as I begged her to come home and crash and let us baby her until she was rested.
She declined and instead drove better than two hours back to an event at her school. She even got dressed up for the event, since it was formal and quite important.
The picture below is what she sent me as she was leaving to attend.



I am not quite sure how she pulled it off, given what the days previous had demanded of her. Another friend who is also a classmate texted me a copy of the program for the evening.  My baby got more awards, or so I am told, than any other single attendee. I've always been proud of her. She has been a constant source of joy to her dad and me. I am very proud of her academic accomplishments, which are many. But at this moment, I am overwhelmed with pride at her depth of her care and concern for others and with her ability to demonstrate that while taking care of her own business.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

I love number 17

This is number 17 for the Shockers softball team. Isn't she adorable?!
I blogged last year about how she chose her team number based on a line from a favorite song she once did a recital dance to.
She's kept the number and she's kept at softball. Despite her dance and gymnastics schedule. Despite the demands of team practice and the obligatory self practice, she has stayed with it.
Last weekend was her first dance competition and this weekend is her first softball tournament. She has the energy for both and to my surprise the skill.
The girl is well rounded and for that I am thankful.
I love number 17.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Nicknames

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

When they placed you in my arms...

My cousin, Eva, is counting down the days until she becomes a grandmother.

There are many things I want to tell her about my own experience.

After all, this is the person who taught me the words to a goodly number of Beatles songs. She taught me to make gum paper wrapper chains and that eating lime sherbet while watching "Dark Shadows" made the whole experience less scary.



She is my lifelong pen pal. I wore her hand me downs and followed her lead.

Grandmother hood is one of the few things I actually experienced first.



So here is the problem. I can't teach or explain this.

This cousin of mine is a teacher by profession and I expect a very excellent one. I love the written and spoken word, yet I am without words to describe this particular things.

My first and only grandbaby is seven now but I recall very vividly the first time I heard her cry. I recall the first time I held her in my arms.  It was just like a quote I've often seen Pinned and RePinned on Pinterest. She slipped into my heart, in fact, in ways I cannot describe.

Her other grandmother, whose own first grandchild was eight at the time, told me that "something happened" in her heart the first time she saw her grandbaby's face. At the time of the telling, just weeks before I experienced exactly that, I could not get my mind wrapped around grandmotherhood being a whole different experience than anything I had felt before. It is. I just can't describe it.

What I can tell my cousin, is that having a grandbaby is one of the few things in my life that has lived up to the hype. It's every bit as wonderful as I was told it would be; maybe more so.

I can also tell her that it just keeps getting better. At least for me, the new has never worn off. My heart (and sometimes my eyes) still well up at the sight of her. I find myself staring at her as she sleeps when she spends the night at our house. Just the thought of her floods my mind with joy.

That's the best I can do to describe what is about to happen to this cousin of mine.

I am hoping she will suceed where I have not and that she will be able to tell me all about it.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone