Reflections

Happy birthday, my sweet boy…

I was there when you arrived HOME from Ethiopia after a long two day journey with your Mom and Dad. You must have been tired, but you didn’t cry. You carefully looked us all over – your new family – from the safety of Mommy’s arms. Those dark eyes danced and then you smiled, revealing dimples that stole my heart. Two years later and I am indeed your Grandmommy! Happy Birthday, my sweet boy!

For my grandson’s third birthday, I chose the Hallmark Curious George recordable book and the Curious George plush character that talks when you press the toe (loudly). I also recorded the story in my voice. My daughter says he plays the storybook all the time. I watched on iPad FaceTime as he opened them and played the book. For just a moment, there was a look of confusion as to how I could accomplish being in two places at once, but then he picked the book up and hugged it to his chest. I will be there for a visit in a few short weeks and I can’t wait!

Fifty-five years and a lock of hair…

My Southern Heart, Reflections

A box came down from the attic today that I knew held some treasures. There were letters from my older son and my daughter when they were away at college. There were letters I had written to my parents after we moved to Kentucky. There was a card to my older son at college written by my third grade son telling his older brother that he “didn’t like being an only child” and that he missed him. The tears were falling, of course, as I continued to sort through these priceless treasures…

Then I spotted the envelope written in Mama’s hand. On the front it read “Dianne McGregor. Lock of hair from September 28, 1957”. 55 years?! I took the envelope outside into the sunlight and carefully pulled out the lock of hair and the small 55 year old rubber band. (For a moment, I felt just like Bruce Willis when he meets himself as a child in the Disney movie, “The Kid”.)

I know now why my youngest has beautiful strawberry blonde hair (besides the fact his two grandmothers did as well). I held the proof in my hands. My hair was clearly blonde. Strawberry blonde.

A year or so ago, I tried having my hair a darker brown. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like me. Someone asked me, “what makes you think you’re a blonde?” Besides my coloring and my memory? I just knew.

So, today, I held the 55 year old lock of hair in my hands. It is the exact same color hair as several of my granddaughters. I was eleven years old on September 28th, 1957…the same age as one of my granddaughters.

I love the study of genetics. The link from one generation to the next. The circle of life…

Behold, the Lamb of God…

Reflections

Do you remember the first time you saw your newborn baby’s face after nine long months of waiting? I do. I remember all three of their precious faces. I remember checking tiny little eyelashes and soft fine eyebrows. I counted baby fingers and toes. I marveled at their exquisite noses and tiny little ears. The amazing faces I’d waited so many months to see stared back at me in wonder.

I can only imagine what Mary thought when she gazed into the face of her newborn son. I wonder if, in her heart of hearts, she truly knew that she had just given birth to the long awaited Messiah. There in a stable on a bed of fresh straw, the Son of God had been born. An angel had appeared to Mary months before to tell her that she had found favor with God and was to bear a child. You remember the story. The angel had said “He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over Jacob’s descendants forever; his kingdom will never end.” Of course, Mary knew that she was a virgin and questioned how this could be. The angel answered, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God.” (Luke 1: 26-38)

I’m sure Mary did just what you and I did as a parent. She talked soft baby talk to him. She listened to him coo. She soothed his cries. She made him laugh. She cared for him one day at the time and watched him grow. No doubt, as she cradled her newborn son in her arms and watched him sleeping peacefully, she remembered the angel’s words. Do you think – for just a moment – Mary had any idea tht she was holding the King of Kings and Lord of Lords in her arms? Clearly, the angel had told her that His kingdom would never end. If I had to guess, Mary was thinking her son’s destiny held something much greater than a wooden cross…but the cross was why Jesus was born.

Almighty God could have chosen any other amazing way to redeem this sinful world, but God Himself came, to you and to me, as a perfect baby. If you’ve not read the story in a while, find a comfortable chair by the window or in front of the fireplace…pick up your New Testament and just start reading. You’ll be amazed all over again. This sweet baby Jesus grew up and went to the cross to pay a debt that I owed – that you owe. He died for each of us. (Read John 3:16) Thank God that He didn’t stay in the grave! He’s alive and is coming again! Keep reading…that amazing story is in there too.

At this Christmas season as we celebrate the birth of our Saviour, I pray for each of you. I pray that you are well and surrounded by family and friends (unless you’re like me this year and many miles from them). I pray God’s richest blessings for each of you…

One amazing life…

Family, My Southern Heart, Reflections

In memory of my sister, Sarah Geraldine “Gerry” McGregor Harden.

August 1, 1930 – October 13, 2011

I was in Chicago when the sad news came. My sister had lost her courageous battle with ALS (Lou Gehrig’s Disease). She was, at that moment, in Heaven…surrounded by a host of loved ones who’d gone before. The Bible says “absent from the body, present with the Lord”. Praise God!

I changed my reservations and flew South. My plans had been to travel South on Sunday and spend the week with my sister…but Heaven needed her sooner. On Sunday, we celebrated the amazing life of my beautiful sister at her funeral service in the church she has attended for 50+ years. There in the midst of the beautiful stained glass windows and an exquisite blanket of Autumn flowers, a host of family and friends met to remember and grieve together. I was reminded of the song “Thank You for giving to the Lord” for that is what she did. Because she loved her Saviour, she gave so selflessly…to each and every one of us, her family…and the very long line of friends at the church. We love you and miss you, Gerry, but we’ll see you again in Heaven. How I thank God that I am so blessed to call you SISTER.

Father’s Day…

Family, My Southern Heart, Reflections

Today is Father’s Day and my mind is full of memories. I was 45 years old when I lost my Dad at the age of 86. I look back now and realize that forty-five was young to lose my father, but my children would be younger still when they lost their Dad.

Life is precious…and altogether fragile. Five years ago, my children and I came face to face with that fact when their father had a sudden massive coronary; and, at the all too young age of 62, he was gone. He had been the love of my life for forty years…four decades. We’d had a sad ending to our story for after 39 years of marriage, it had ended in divorce. My heart had been broken, but I had loved him still even then. Seven and a half months later, he was gone. I was left with memories and a string of what-ifs. It was an extremely hard time for my children and me. We’d all had so much to deal with in the loss of the family as we’d known it and then a loss so great it would take years to heal. Time helps a little. Over time, pain has a way of softening at the edges.

He was a wonderful Dad and my children miss him so much. I miss him. I’m sad that he never really knew our grandchildren as they got older. That hurts a lot. I try to talk about him when I’m with them. I tell them little ways my son or daughter is like their father. I show them pictures and I tell them about him. I don’t want them to forget him…although they were so young they barely remember him. I’d like to think that somehow he will know it when our newest grandbaby…a precious little girl…is born this September. I love my children so very much and I’m glad he was their father.

He died in the month of April, and that first Father’s Day after his death, there was so much pain and hurt for all of us. I wanted something that would, in a way, be “from him” for our children. For our daughter, I chose the little Willow Tree “Father and Daughter” carving and for our two sons the “Father and Son” carving. I hope each time they look at it, they remember all the good times and the great memories…for there were a lot of those.

I’m in the process of scanning forty years worth of photos…a lifetime. I want each of my children to have a record of our family. It will take me a while but this is important; and I will get it done.