Water Mamas

We graduated the twins from second grade and were off to St. Augustine to celebrate their 8th birthday. They got there before Megan, her kids, and I did. And sometime in the grocery shopping and settling in, this photo was taken:

Positively glorious. But as bedtime approached, Miranda had desperately bad news. And I consoled her into the wee hours as she began the stages of mourning, and also averted a near disaster. Thankfully, when the girls travel together, mornings are a slow rise. But Megan, bless her, was already upstairs from her slumber in the bunkroom with the all the kids, and making breakfast. She had stayed off making coffee because she and their friend, Lauren, were afraid it wouldn't be to my liking. I say make it strong, and the rest can be adjusted. Once everyone was properly caffeinated, we packed our lunches and set out with wagons and carts down the quarter of a mile to the beach. The only things I really remember about that day were these surprise photos:

and the feeling of abandonment, sheer abandonment, to be on the beach, no men in sight to worry over this flaw or that. I see why women go on "girls' trips" but not for the customary reasons of no accountability, only for the freedom to just be a girl, not that I ever will be again or even want to be, but to be playful and lighthearted. Somehow, I wound up in the water with our 4 year-old grandgirl who already looks the part of a surfer and with her floaties on, was ready to find some waves. I got down to her level as we waited to see which ones were "grandma crashers" and would bowl me over. Oh, and I remember taking calls from Madalynn, who is herself away working for the summer at the beach, and from Macklynn. Neither had remembered I was in Florida. I stood from reclining on the porch couch to this scene, the cousin birthday party, short one member (whose own mother was a beach lifeguard herself), ensuing:

Wednesday morning, we didn't know it but had pushed Megan's good graces a bit too far when we sat on the porch drinking coffee (which they waited again on me to make) and left her inside with the kids. I'm glad we stayed out just long enough though because Lauren and I finally got to have a real conversation. She's a Guardiad ad Litem, as is my friend, Jennifer. And something gave way to a conversation about my application and qualification to become a host parent to the local children's home. I was explaining that since then I had all my procedures and surgeries (spanning two years) and just hadn't pursued it anymore. Meanwhile, McKala's wheels were turning, and she said she would make a designated appointment at her salon that I could bring a child to. So, we'll see where this goes. It was Wednesday, I think, when McKala walked up and bear hugged my shoulders from behind. She and I, we're all business otherwise when she leaves the twins Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, every other Friday (as well as every other Saturday during wedding season) mornings. This trip, like the "glamping" one last summer to The Ark, is for teacher appreciation, a perk of sorts, as are the dress she bought me for Michael's rehearsal dinner, any hair supplies or cuts, and any tickets to anything we go to and food while we're there. Lunches and green teas, with vitamin C, packed and quercitin and zinc taken (to fend off the crud Megan and her two brought with them), we set off again to sun, toss the ball, and enjoy the waves. Toward the end, the twins enticed me to use a body board. Alas, it was for children. But they did not forget me the next day! In the meantime, we gussied up a little, took some pictures, and ate out that night for the first time.

Lauren's family frequents that area and suggested we go to where I had my first ever grit cake topped with all manner of things including jerk pulled pork. Believe you me, I ate every bite.

I conked out that night and woke Thursday morning to one of the, if not the, best messages I ever got. As I was sleeping soundly, she had sent, "When I was a little girl I loved sleeping with you... It's very comforting sleeping next to you when my heart is broken. I'm glad you're here." I don't know it was that message or the clear day, but that morning on the beach I noticed in a magnified degree the sparkling water, the fishing boat with dolphins trailing, fishermen all along the shore, cyclists going by. And as I situated myself under one of the four umbrellas, McKala saw a Naval ship on the horizon and mentioned the feeling of safety it made her have. After I had my fill of sunshine, I strolled into the water where the twins were body boarding already. I said, "Ahh, I forgot to get one," when they pointed to the sand and said, "We brought you one!" I wasn't at all sure what to do at first, so I watched them to see if they had any success. After about an hour, I figured out when to get on the wave. While just the two of us were within earshot of each other, Abby shouted something like, "You're a real grandma, out here doing this with us!" Again, thanks to McKala was I able to at all. She found a cardio drumming class online this spring and knowing I'd been interested for years but still very limited in activity and confidence, barely over my pelvic organ reconstructive surgery last summer, encouraged me to join. So, I did. Big G decided she had to get in on the fun. I'm glad that since I'd left my phone at the rental, to be present, that someone documented me in photos. I don't know if there have ever been so many of me. I was always the photographer or the dodger of the photographer.

Once more we cleaned up and went out, this time to where I tried a grit cake a second time as part of the previously suggested entree, Chicken Jolie Blonde. It was excellent but quite different from the first one. Thankfully, Miranda thought to let me out at the door where a man kindly told me to go give them my name, else I'd probably still be standing there, having been taken care of most of my life, which is just what I told him when I thanked him. The storm had just broken, and I risked getting two tables outside for the nine of us rather than wait 45 minutes for the inside. The weary walkers were relieved to be seated immediately. We enjoyed the tolerable temperature in the lush greenery with live music and even encoutered the rescue of a baby bird who was displaced by the rain and wind, alleviating Abby's distress over the poor thing. Afterwards, we walked straight across the street for a carriage ride. I suppose it was for the kids but is part of the touristy things I don't like, which is why I have often been quoted saying I don't like the beach. This trip was different, though. I was being Michelle, still Mama and Mamachelle, but not on duty (except helping to keep little G from escaping the beach house) as I was in years past. Friday morning, I finally woke before anyone else and with my own coffee pot finally in place, made mine but couldn't go without making theirs, also. I had finally found a relaxed pace, but the girls were picking up theirs. They had everything packed, trash taken to the road, and washing machine and dishwasher running, all before I finished cleaning out the refrigerator. They had even packed some of my things for me and had my suitcase in the car. The mamas couldn't leave without having a home school field trip, so we wound up at the fort. Big G got in some picture taking while scaring me nearly to death as she ducked in between these pillars to get a shot.

The heat sent us back to our cars and on the way home to North Carolina. Megan had been talking about Savannah the whole week, and as it so happened traffic was backed up to the exit for Savannah. In no time flat, there we were parked right near River Street. What I hadn't anticipated was these kind of stops on our trek back, so I had on no less than compression socks, genie pants, a $2 T-shirt from Roses, tennis shoes, and glasses, in essence traveling gear, while lots of women walking up and down were dressed to the nines. It made me wonder what I'm even supposed to be wearing in this new era of mine. I've had to change what kind of bra I wear, and even what kind of pants, socks, and shoes in efforts not to reexacerbate the pelvic problems or viens I've had repaired and the tendon they had to cut to correct my hammer toe. These aren't even including the marble-sized cyst I had cut out of a tonsil and the three procedures to stretch the top of my throat because of an unexplained stricture. Honestly, thank God for modern medicine, or I would've been stuck at home rather than venturing out with my crew. And that's what Mike was, stuck at home. He had been in the hospital a whole weekend after a vascular appointment to check his aortic graft and the three aneurysms that are developing. Ironically, the hospital stay had nothing to do with these things but rather his blood pressure and oxygen levels upon arriving. We were already at Baptist where they promptly got him a wheelchair and sent him to the ED where they could not get his blood pressure, at 208/130 at one point, under control. They admitted him and convinced it was an asthma episode combined with unmanaged nerve pain, finally sent him home after two days. It was hard for me to believe that's all it was, so I insisted his cardiologist do a heart catheterization to clear the existense of any blockages, and that's just what it did. The doctor reported that he had "pristine" vessels in his heart. Unfortunately for Mike, neither of us thought about the puncture that was made and that he couldn't submerge himself in water for 5-7 days, which bumped him from the trip. He was still holding out hope, but Sunday the pressure went back up to 190/130. Our son-in-law had to stay home and work and said he'd be on call for him. Instead they went to the gun store, to the theater, and out to the yard shooting, all because Mike got his new meds balanced, and he rested, prayed, ate minimally and cleanly, fed the animals, watered the plants, and had decided by the time I got home that we would walk and also read the Bible together every morning! What he didn't know is that as I was walking to the garden one day last month, I told God straight-up that I didn't think I deserved how he was treating me. Now, there are times I deserved it, even if it was because of secret/unconfessed sin, albeit only in thought many times. So, as I was on that twelve hour, stopping many times, one after I dumped over a potty chair looking for a toy, trip home, Mike was anticipating my return with a clean house and a renewed sense of moving forward. Poor Megan, who helped me raise her siblings, I think I was more harm than help to her on the trip. When Little G would scream, I packed his dinosaur toy's mouth with food and tried to bite him with it. Thinking he would find some delight in my silliness, he only met it with more and flung food all over the car. After waking from one of my two naps, I told her this must be what it feels like on the way home from a bachelorette party. She looked at me and asked, "Have you ever been on a bachelorette trip?" I laughed and said, "No, but this has to be what it feels like afterwards!" Funny, it was, in fact, the longest day of the year, the summer solstice. He finally did some sleeping, and we were able to listen to David Jeremiah for a while, which wound us up on the subject of Jesus' brothers and their unbelief until the resurrection, which wound me up on a page listing these bullet points: "He loved them, but didn't cater to them. He wasn't controlled by family expectations. He prioritized His Father's will over family comfort." That last one, that's the one so many of us don't get and what people don't understand in me when I institute it. And in trying to answer her where David Jeremiah is from, I read that he knew God let him live through lymphoma years back, not to "go sit on a beach somewhere" but to spend the rest of his time serving Him, ironic not that I was trying to move to a beach or anything. Anyway, here I am sitting Sunday afternoon, having walked not one but two miles with Mike before church this morning. I'm back to my potassium salt, magnesium drink, and kefir (probiotic drink). If what they say about Vitamin D is true, I'm good 72 hours from Thursday afternoon, which puts me back out in the sun working the garden tomorrow afternoon, right when I need to be! It was an absolute deluge while we were gone. It began well before we left and is why I was unable to till. Michael's wedding is less than two weeks away. The flowers we planted are blooming. Don't think our pastor's wife and I haven't prayed for that. When I saw they were budding before we left, I purposefully and tearfully stepped back, looked to the sky, and thanked God that the blessing I hoped to give is coming just in time. Thankfully, our water mamas decided not to take their water babies to the river today, not that I had it in me to go anyway. They'll be found soon though at Aunt Cindy's pool or fishing at the lake or in the river with Mike. Miranda will start having dinner with us again in between her days on shift, but probably not too regularly before the wedding. It's all hands on deck, full speed ahead. Funny I ever entertained that I would have some kind of generic, uninvolved latter years. Megan said not long ago, "Mama, you didn't raise us like that."

What I Got

           This morning the preacher asked anyone who had not won someone to Christ to raise their hand. As I ran through my mind, I thought of one of the twins, so I didn't raise mine. But just because I was there for it doesn't mean I was the one who led her to it in that moment. Then, it must still be a no. And that's how it's been for me my whole life. No denying that I'm a seed sower. It's what I 'got.' 

     . . .  just like the seeds I have planted in the egg cartons in the kitchen. When I learned Michael and Melody would get married this summer, I automatically thought of growing flowers for the wedding. We'll, of course, do the rehearsal dinner, but I was thinking of what all ways we could help otherwise. We don't have much money. But what I 'got' is opportunity, time, and resources. 

      And time, it's a-fleeting. This week alone, Melody Ann has come from Georgia and spent the night before her final orthopedist appointment for the catastrophic knee injury she suffered as the goalie of the soccer team for the university she and Michael both played ball. The prior night Miranda brought a prospective mate for us to "assess," and believe you me, I did. I had a ready list of questions. But as we've learned, watching the life of a person is all anyone really can do. Monday, we held Guinevere's 4th birthday party here. The add-on dining room with the 14-person table Mike built for me is always the go-to for special occasions. This isn't even our house. But thankfully, it's what we 'got.'

     . . .  just like the guest bedroom we have, since Macklynn moved out. Four people have used it in the last seven days. The twins spent the night Thursday so we could get up with Mike to see the lunar eclipse. Then, Macklynn himself arrived from Raleigh Friday morning, somehow squeezing in a fishing trip with Mike, an excursion to the creek with his nieces and a nephew, and an impromptu concert in the yard with Madalynn before spending the night that evening. I'm so glad we 'got' room for all these things.

      Something else we've gotten is another diagnosis for Madalynn, Musculoskeletal Amplified Pain, yet another debilitating disorder. As we were arriving for the Rheumatology appointment, we managed a ride from the parking deck on a golf cart. I quickly recognized what the other passengers were talking with the driver about, so I chimed in. Turns out we live with ten minutes or fifteen minutes of each other. 

     The lady's eye patch made it obvious why she was there, but Madalynn's conditions do not. When I explained to her, the lady, Donna, promptly stopped in front of the elevators, took Madalynn's hand, and prayed for her. And that's what we 'got.' And I'll take it every time . . . even the diagnoses because when she gets better, we will have names to say what all she was healed from. 

     Time, I try to spend as much with Mike as I can. It's always good for him when somebody needs something fixed or fed, like I went along for and even drove a tractor for the first time during, while Dr. Miller was out of town, but when Mike isn't feeling good (that's an understatement), as much as I avoid TV usually, I try and join him in whatever he's watching. Lots of that is politics, and, truth be known, I would understand little about it if not for him. 

     Then, of course, in February along with celebrating four of our kids' birthdays within eight days of each other, there were the Super Bowl, the Daytona 500, the America vs. Canada hockey match, oh, and Valentine's, when what I 'got' was a thorough surprise. Funny, normally holidays and events don't mean that much to me. But the fellowship that goes with them 'gets' me every time. 

     How can I not be happy with this life I'm given to live before God, the way we all have been . . .  either grasping for more things or content and prospering with what we 'got'?

Blessings on Blessings

      I couldn't see them until I lay down last night. I was hormonal and tired plus somewhat injured and plowing through the week. Then, after I showered and finally lay still, I realized I had seen six of our seven children. Even the other, I had talked with every evening. 

     It all began Sunday with the baptisms of grandgirl twins, Autumn and Abigail, and meal to celebrate. Monday, I went with Madalynn, our last child at home, to her Physical appointment and made it back in time for an inauguration watch party with the twins and their mother. Tuesday through Thursday I help her out by homeschooling them. Tuesday, they needed to spend the night because McKala had a migraine. Megan, our oldest, brought their Guinevere and Gideon to play with them. Thursday, Miranda, who recently moved back into town, came over to eat supper. Friday, Mike and I met our Melody and little Weston, who live an hour and a half away, at a midpoint for lunch. Then, at midnight Michael, who lives in Georgia, rolled in with his Melody. This morning, Jeremiah, Megan's husband, arrived at 8 am the way he does every Saturday for our Bible study. And today before they left for their sixth friend wedding in about as many months, Michael took Mike and me to lunch at a favorite little Italian place while she was putting together her best look once again.

     There I was this week not seeing progress, not meeting goals, and not understanding blessings were right under my nose, not once, not twice, but every single day.

     That was week before last. This Monday afternoon, I still have icing on my phone from the party Madalynn's nieces and I threw for her Brainiversary yesterday. Yes, it marked a year from her Chiari Malformation Decompression Surgery she underwent. She had suffered for many years and had been seen by many a doctor prior to its discovery. She recently found a journal about the daily headaches she endured while only 12 years old.

     The night before the party, we had another party, the first ever cousin sleepover, and boy was Guinevere, 3, excited to come stay with her female counterparts. I'm generally not a fan of sleepovers and the oftentimes more bad than good that comes from them, so I had Miss Guinevere sleep on a mattress trundled right next to mine. She could hardly settle down from all her enthusiasm at being included in such a big girl thing.

     Mike had both pulmonology and cardiology appointments this week. The cardiologist predicted an aortic root repair next year and told Mike to just enjoy his life, rather than focus on the "what-ifs" I suppose. I need to follow the same advice. Funny, just a couple of years ago, with Mike's not wanting to live and my not knowing how I was going to live, I was brazen enough to think I knew whom I might marry, too what good I could be doing in the church, all the while not understanding how Mike's will would change and what good I could be doing for own my family. 

      Turns out I have a fan club, whose members are named Autumn, Abigail, Guinevere, Gideon, and Weston. Grandparenting is not at all true to the portrayal I have observed. It is not exclusively fun and games and snacks and ease. It is a holy grail of influence and care and responsibility and ministry. And I am of no use to the Church if I am no use to these little ones. Besides, it is as important if not more important to not only volunteer in the church but to be purposeful to fellow or would-be members of the Church just like when I went out of my way this week at Walmart to greet a lady who has been visiting. 

     This week also held two specialists' appointments for Madalynn, a Neurophysiologist and a Pediatric Cardiologist, a full two hours spent with each. She finally has a diagnosis of Autonomic System Disorder. The involuntary nervous system signals are disrupted and affecting even her heart rate and blood pressure which was as high as 151/80 that day. She's already prescribed physical therapy and Nortriptyline and is now on beta blockers also. The decompression surgery was necessary but not without complications. In spite of them, she has begun classes at the community college and is back to work as the barn girl at Dr. Miller's. 

     Although I can't remember what day it was, we got to see Miranda this week. She took one of the twins to run errands in a delightful one-on-one time. Today, I went walking with Megan and her two, and expect to have Miranda over for dinner tomorrow night, as well as McKala and the twins the next three nights. After the year of school and the divorce, McKala is finally in business for herself, although she'd rather be home with her babies. Thankfully, we are able to collaborate in their upbringing. 

     I get so down on myself for not reaching certain heights, then I recount what all experiences we've had in this short time of a new year, never mind the fall I took three weeks ago on the hike down the still snow-covered backside of the hilly property the twins and I were exploring. It's still sore but could have been a show-stopping injury to my knee. Then my uphill climb to menopause decided to fool me with another cycle. I'm sure it's not a bad thing, just confusing to my system that normally runs like clockwork and to my mouth which keeps surprising me with things I didn't plan to say. Following that, I came down with a cold, but thanks be to God and to Fire Cider and other home remedies, I escaped any lingering effects, except that with the tension of the appointments along with lowered immunity, my body gave in to its scourge. Even that has not been too severe. 

     Last Saturday, Jeremiah and I finished Deuteronomy. What a relevant book, and what most stands out to me is, "Because thou servedst not the LORD thy God with joyfulness, and with gladness of heart, for the abundance of all things;" (Deut. 28:47). How I've let things again become work and duty and oughtness. Not that we should only do things out of pleasure but that we can do them with pleasure. I suck the beauty out of everything including myself when I rely too hard on timelines and gameplans. There's no doubt I need boundaries, but so many of them are self-imposed rather than God-ordained. I don't know when it ever ends, if ever. But I'll keep trying to find balance, temperance, as long as it takes, whenever that is.