Category: Herald-Dispatch Articles

 

“And I realized when you look at your mother, you are looking at the purest love you will ever know.”—Mitch Albom

“Becoming a mother makes you the mother of all children.”—Charlotte Gray

I could hear her squalling, yet the door remained closed. It was that tiny cry that seems cat-like—the high-pitched sound that only an infant can create. Immediately, my heart hurt, and my arms yearned—even though I knew she was safe, secure, and soundly in her mother’s direct supervision. It was pure maternal instinct that longed to provide comfort to the grieving, unseen newborn.

Catching the eye of my brother, Scott, I could see the tension across his face. Only moments earlier, he had knocked, asking to enter, but instead had been told to wait outside in the hallway while the photographer finished her work. He seemed filled with both joy and anxiety. Joy at becoming a grandfather; anxiety-ridden hearing his concealed granddaughter cry for the first time. Who knew hospitals had an official photography session for newborns? Much had changed since Scott had his own children 20-plus years ago.

Gratefully, the photographer finished; politely speaking to us as she pushed her black velvet covered cart passed us. By this point, my mom had also arrived, so she and Scott entered the hospital room first.

Passing into the room after them, I took in the scene. Hugs were shared with all present. Meanwhile, in front of me, was a young lady, my niece, Lydia, looking quite fatigued, but still radiating pride, love, and joy as she carefully dressed her firstborn child, a beautiful baby named Luna. Lydia talked softly and sweetly to her unhappy baby girl who was clearly not pleased with the current situation. Luna’s limbs writhed in protest within her tiny, but tall hospital bed as Lydia carefully placed each of her extremities into a cozy pajama-type outfit. Once in the security of her mother’s arms, however, all crying ceased; an audible sigh could be heard as Luna nestled into loving comfort once more.

At the base of the baby’s bed were Luna’s inky-black footprints. Lydia immediately pointed out the size of Luna’s feet to Scott, her father, laughing at the way Luna had inherited big feet from both sides of the family. Scott listened and laughed along, but both he, and my mom, Luna’s great-grandmother, could not pull their eyes away from Baby Luna.

Luna was indeed beautiful. Yes, I know, everyone believes this about his or her own children and relatives, but really, she was exquisite. Long fingers and toes; a head full of black hair complete with a swirl at the back of the scalp.   Animated lips, face, and eyes that moved about in the full, curious methods of newborns forming the type of expressions in which one begins mimicking in return and/or uttering baby-talk expressions in sing-song voices, such as, “What?” “What is it, Sissy?” “What do you think?” “Oh, yes, I know, I know.”

Hours before Baby Luna was born, I sent my niece a text stating that both her pregnancy and her birth were the two sacred and specials moments when a woman is blessed to help God in the miracle of life.   Feeling the baby grow inside you; caressing your belly; and talking to her throughout those nine, seemingly long, months, mother and child begin building their God-given bond. Those months feel so extraordinary, and they are; but nothing compares to birth.

Personally speaking, one of the most hallowed moments of my life occurred when my doctor, before even cutting the umbilical cord, gently placed my own daughter, Madelyn, onto my chest and in my arms. I remember my husband, John and I, crying tears of unrelenting joy at the miracle of her birth as he leaned in placing a hand upon her back. That was a long ago June moment—18 years, in fact. Now, Lydia, and her partner, Bradley, have experienced it too. And, in that hospital room, I recognized the look on their faces—one of pure awe, pure devotion, and pure love. It was truly beautiful.

And so, one weekend, I proudly watch my daughter address her classmates at her own high school graduation. Seven days later, my niece gives birth to Luna. “So it goes like it goes and the river flows/And time it rolls right on/ And maybe what’s good gets a little bit better/ And maybe what’s bad gets gone.” (Lyrics from an Academy Award winning song from 1979 as I began high school.)

I am entering a new phase of motherhood as Lydia is only just beginning. My daughter will become more and more independent from me over the next few years as Luna will become more and more dependent upon her mom. I will now need to pray for God’s guidance and protection of my daughter’s newfound independence. Meanwhile, Lydia must pray for wisdom in her newfound role as a mother.

However, Lydia and I have one very strong, common bond: love. We will continue to offer our girls unconditional love; never ceasing to be amazed at the miraculous growth of our daughters as one daughter spreads her wings to leave the nest, and the other daughter grows while in the protection of her parents’ nest.

Thus, even with all the worldly chaos, birth is God’s way of reminding us that true good still exists. Our daughters, Miss Lydia, are proof of that goodness. So, if you ever wake up feeling defeated by an unkind comment, a shattering headline, or a negative attitude, turn to that baby girl; rest assure that hope exists as you gaze into her eyes; know that miracles do happen as you feel her warmth in your arms; and know with confidence, each time you tenderly kiss her head, that love wins. Love always wins.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

            “And He will raise you up on eagle’s wings, Bear you on the breath of dawn, Make you to shine like the sun, And hold you in the palm of His Hand.”—Michael Joncas

“Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice.” –Philippians 4:4

“Spread your wings guys, it’s time for us to fly.”—Madelyn Clarice Hill from her salutatorian address

What a weekend it has been for many Tri-State families! Graduations galore! Personally speaking, between my husband, John, and me, we have attended four graduations and one baccalaureate service in the span of five days!   Plus, we were able to be co-hosts to one grand graduation party for our daughter, Madelyn, and her cousin, John Davis—who in my mind will forever be Johnny! It has indeed been a whirlwind time period filled with activities, families, friends, and loved ones. We are indeed feeling blessed beyond measure.

Two weeks ago, I wrote about my Dad, Larry Musick, randomly sending me a text that simply stated, “Philippians 4:8.” It was a gentle reminder to focus less on my busy calendar, and instead think about the lovely and praiseworthy events creating such a calendar. Little did I know, that in the span of two days this past week, I would encounter this verse, not once, but twice more!

Philippians 4:4-9 was the scripture reading at both Maddie’s baccalaureate service and graduation! And, why not? It is a passage of both joy and peace—two feelings that should be attached to the celebration of the journey from one life stage to the next!   “Have no anxiety at all . . .the God of peace will be with you.” When I shared this coincidence with my Dad, he replied, “God speaks to us in many ways. Sometimes when it is important, He repeats Himself.” I think he had a valid point.

The irony was not only the repeated Bible verse, but also a song sang at the baccalaureate service entitled, “On Eagle’s Wings,” based upon Psalm 91 and Isaiah 40:31. It is one of my favorite songs; one I often associate with my grandmother, Helen.

Helen was an ardent reader of the Bible; and, during her final earthly days, I would read Bible verses to her, especially Isaiah 40:28-31. I often read this passage to her because when I lived with her during my early twenties, she took great comfort in those verses when she was going through, what she referred to as, “a rough spell.” Thus, in those precious hours, as her soul vacillated between heaven and earth, I had hoped those same verses would ease her pain and suffering when the morphine began to wear off, and it wasn’t quite time for her next dose.

When alive,  Helen was a tough-as-nails lady, who worked hard to do the right thing her entire life. I was not, per se, her favorite grandchild; however, because I was the only one to live with her for over two years, I became especially close to her. Even after I married, and left her home, I would still visit her every Friday evening immediately after school.

I learned many significant lessons from Helen, both directly and indirectly. Some of the most important lessons include: love your family; read the Bible; pray daily; get an education; and, always put forth your best effort in all endeavors. Helen did not have the most engaging personality, like her husband, my Papaw Check, but she seemed most happy when she was around friends and family who made her smile and laugh. Her life was one of service, faith, and family. I miss her greatly.

Yet, like many loved ones who pass, I often feel her presence with me. Perhaps, it is my overactive imagination, but sometimes I can almost hear her whisper to me; and, even, at times, I can sense her laughter in moments of joy. And, that is what I felt throughout the five days of celebration!

Helen was there to remind me that God would hold both Maddie and Johnny in His hands as they spread their wings and begin to fly a bit farther from the nest. Certainly, she would have agreed with Dad that God was indeed to speaking to me through song and verse. I believe she also wanted me to know that I needed to dry my tears, rejoice in the educational accomplishments of Johnny and Maddie, and focus, instead, on the time at hand with them. Further, I can only imagine the pride that must have beamed from her heavenly face as my siblings, parents, stepparents, nieces, nephews, other family members, and friends came together to celebrate this momentous occasion.

And so, as this weekend of celebration winds to an end, life will resume, but with a new normal taking flight–a new normal that includes teens transitioning to young adults as they prepare for new skies in which to dip, dart, and glide. Young adults that, despite the distance that will separate them, will remain connected to one another as well as to the rest of their family and friends. In fact, when we gather again next Memorial Day weekend, the flock may include new friends, and perhaps more, or less, family members. One thing is for certain though, next year will not look like this year, but that is as it should be–for time and life are fluid—ever moving, ever flowing, ever changing—like the sky itself.  Regardless of the changes in life, I can take assurance in the fact that our maturing children, and the rest of our loved ones for that matter, will be held in the palm of His hand.