The 8 x 10

I held the 8 x 10 in my hands, turning to her dad with a puzzled look and asked, “Where in the world does she get her beautiful looks from?” He agreed, and thought for a second. In a very politically correct manner he said, “I think she’s got a mixture of both of us.”

Mickey is a beautiful, almost 14 year old girl. She has a very sweet personality. Her sense of humor makes us laugh. And she is smart.

She was born 13 years after her brother, taking away his spot as the youngest. When people look at me with the “why did you have a child so late in life” look, I simply add, “She’s the icing on the cake.”

Because she is so sweet.

I had a piece of Mickey’s heart from the minute I knew she existed. Likewise, I know she has a piece of mine.

And now she wants to share the 8 x 10 with her friend. Her friend who is a boy.

It won’t be long and some boy will want to share her heart as well. And I know that I will have to let him.

But not the 8 x 10. That’s mine.

All That Remains

“They took everything but the kitchen sink.” No. That’s gone too. All that remains of my old kitchen stands here in this spot. The hot and cold water pipes.

Everything we own that was in our kitchen is boxed up, shelved, and otherwise scattered throughout the house. I feel like I am living in a pile of stuff. The milk is in the frig in the basement, down a flight of steps and sixty feet from where it is supposed to be. The cereal is on a shelf in the hallway next to the disposable bowls and spoons. The toaster is on a cart in the living room. It’s a challenge to eat breakfast. Or any meal, for that matter.

The picture of my new kitchen is engrained in my brain – and I call upon it frequently to keep my sanity.

Like last night when I was scraping the dried joint compound off the old floor to prep for the new floor. My back and feet were aching. My husband helped me carry a few things out of the room. Then he looked at me and said, “I think I’ll go hunting for awhile.”

Thank goodness I didn’t have a hammer in my hand or I would have killed him. Well, not literally …

He paced around the room for a minute. I whined for some more help. Then he made the mistake of opening his mouth one more time.

“Well, this was all your idea,” he said sort-of-under-his-breath as he walked into the living room.

Again, I have no hammer.

Deep breath …

I finished sweeping up the joint compound crumbs.

For those of you who are dying to know, did my husband go hunting?

No.

Twenty minutes later the electrician showed up and he helped him fish a couple wires up through the wall.

Then I handed him a hammer …

So he could take a couple staples out of the old floor that he missed the other night - when the light was too dim, and the old set of eyes he has had already checked out for the night.

My Life

A fellow blogger, Genny, at My cup 2 Yours, after reading the book One Month to Live by Kerry and Chris Shook, invited her readers to contribute a blog post on this subject. After getting past not wanting to think about this, and reading some other beautiful posts by other bloggers, I have mustered up enough courage to share my thoughts with you.

While all of us know that our time here is limited, none of us know exactly when we will leave the earth. I’m not sure if my Godmother knew how long she would be here with us, but nonetheless, she prepared for it. She prepared for it spiritually as well as physically. My Godmother never doubted her faith. She was a strong Christian woman, despite the trials and tribulations life sent her way. She looked to God for strength and courage as she lost her seventeen year old son in the early 1960s and her husband in the early 1970s. When her body was sickened by cancer in the late 1990s, she spent the remaining years of her life fighting this disease, and at the same time, making the most of her life, spending precious time with her family.

As for me, I don’t have any place in this world that I need to see. Take me down a road where the trees are framing the hillside in beautiful hues of red, orange, yellow and green and I will see the beauty of God’s creation. Take me to a valley where the snowflakes are gently fall from the sky, landing ever so quietly on the ground, one by one filling in all the brown with pure white and I will see the splendor of God’s creation. Take me to a lake where the water is as smooth as glass, and the ripples of a pebble quietly spread out in circles, gently washing up on the shore, and I will see the gentleness of God’s creation. As I soak in this beauty of God’s earth, with each day I am here, I have but a glimpse of what beauty lies beyond this, forever and ever.

From time to time, I have always thought that if I knew I would be leaving, I would write a letter to each of my children. An excerpt of it would go something like this.

Dear child of mine-

You were brought into this world because of the love your father and I have for each other. You are the greatest accomplishment in my life. You have made my life a worthwhile challenge, an exciting and enjoyable journey. I am far from perfect, and so are you. I didn’t do everything right, but I have loved you unconditionally all along the way, despite our human flaws.

I hope that you have learned from me. I have tried to teach you to treat others with love and respect. I have tried to teach you life skills that will take you far in this world. I’ve taught you by example that family sticks together through the tough times, and that these difficult times will only make you stronger. But most of all, I hope that you have learned that the most important thing in this world is to love God and to live a Christian life, asking God to help guide you when you are lost, and thanking Him always, for everything He has given you.

Never doubt that God has a place waiting for us which is so much more beautiful than any place here on earth. “Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.” Heb. 11:1.

Love, Mom