"We do not remember days; we remember moments." ~Cesare Pavese

This morning is quiet.  The proverbial "quiet before the storm."

Jeff S. and Becca are both still sleeping, and I'm alone.  This will perhaps be the last time I can say that this year.

Caleb arrives today, Jeff O. will be here Sunday, and our Renz family will be here next week.  There will be laughter, loudness, lots of eating, sharing, playing, and no doubt some strife over games that usually becomes quite intense in this family.  There will be early mornings of playing with Lydia, who will no doubt be sporting some wild hair and sucking fiercely on her paci in the predawn hours.  Ryan will be teased about his Smoky Mountain t-shirt, which he will likely bring with him.  Sarah will be ready for bed early each night, and Becca will be asking, "Is anyone else cold?"  Jeff O. will be continuing to learn how this family functions, as he assimilates himself into the Stewart culture, and Caleb will . . . well, he'll be Caleb!  Jeff S. will smoke a turkey, and we will have our traditional "Santa morning," even though it may be a few days later than usual, and probably in the afternoon instead of the morning this year.  It will be loud and messy, fun and memorable, and it will be us.  Nothing is more special to me than us.

This time of year is a time for looking back.  We all do it.  We remember the previous 12 months that we've flipped on our calendars, and although every year is different, they are also very much the same.  This year brought sickness, surgeries, death, frustrations and distance from loved ones.  But it also brought fun, joy, trips, reconnection with dear friends and family, graduations, growth, celebrations, and next week will culminate the year for us with a wedding as we officially welcome another Jeff into our tight-knit family.

As I look back on this year, one thing overwhelmingly stands out - thanksgiving.  I'm thankful for all of the blessings God has showered on me and my precious ones this year - they truly are too numerous to list.  And I'm even thankful for the difficult times because they serve a purpose as well.  I'm most thankful for the ones currently sleeping under this roof, and for those who will soon arrive back "home" and the ensuing chaos that will bring.  I'm thankful for God's care that got us to this point, and for the love my kids have for each other.  I'm especially thankful for the fact that these children of mine - who continue to grow in number - are also my brothers and sisters in Christ.  That fact only enriches our already close bonds even more.

The next time I'm home alone I will have a new set of memories to add to my precious store, as well as a new son-in-law.  I know from previous experience that when the last suitcase has been loaded and the last child leaves, it will be quiet again - a little too much so.  I will feel the melancholy that comes with the end of such a gathering, as I wash sheets and towels, vacuum up dog hair, and wipe little handprints off the windows.  But I will be thankful, and look forward to the coming year with all it will bring.  There's sure to be more difficulties, sickness, death, frustrations, and distance.  But there's also certainly to be fun, joy, laughter, reconnection, growth, and gatherings of my most precious ones.

Life.  Good and bad, happy and sad, joyous and difficult.  Such a blessing.

"Who will tell whether one happy moment of love or the joy of breathing or walking on a bright morning and smelling the fresh air, is not worth all the suffering and effort which life implies." ~Erich Fromm

“The God who made your children will hear your petitions. He has promised to do so. After all, He loves them more than you do.” ~Dr. James Dobson

"He loves them more than you do."  That thought has always amazed me.  Any mother will tell you that the love she has for her children is like no other.  And that doesn't change or lessen just because they grow up.  I would do anything in this world for my kids.  I would die for them. No hesitancy, no question.  Every mother I know feels the same way.

This week has reminded me of a lot of things regarding motherhood, as our boy has needed some care-taking.  What began as a simple hernia repair quickly turned into more.  Complications developed, a post-op visit to an ER ensued, and another operation had to be performed - two surgeries in as many days, with a few shots of Morphine between. Since coming home, it seems like we've had to jump one hurdle after another, taking two steps forward and three steps back.  It's been quite a week for our boy, and therefore, quite a week for his mama.

I won't give a replay of all the details of our week - Caleb probably prefers I do not do that, and honestly, I have no desire to re-live it!  But one event stands out in my mind above all the others - our visit to the ER.  While the doctor there attempted to alleviate Caleb's acute problem, he caused Caleb great pain in the process - more pain than he had ever experienced before.  And as I stood right outside the door, I could hear the sounds that come with excruciating pain.  I felt so helpless and wanted nothing more than to make the pain stop.  And even though my "boy" is actually a 23-year-old man, this mother's heart was wrenched as he endured that suffering.  I would have traded places with him in a heartbeat.  It makes me tear up even now as I remember.

That made me think about Mary, the mother of our Lord, standing at the foot of the cross.  I can't imagine the horror she endured as she watched her Son hanging there.  My experience with Caleb over the past week pales in comparison.  And what about God Himself - as His only begotten Son hung there.  It reminds me of the hymn, "How Deep the Father's Love For Us," in which Stuart Townend penned these words:

"How deep the Father's love for us,

How vast beyond all measure;

That He should give His only Son

To make a wretch His treasure.

How great the pain of searing loss,

The Father turns His face away -

As wounds which mar the chosen One,

Bring many sons to glory.

Behold the Man upon a cross,

My sin upon His shoulders;

Ashamed I hear my mocking voice,

Call out among the scoffers.

It was my sin that held Him there,

Until it was accomplished.

His dying breath has brought me life,

I know that it is finished.

I will not boast in anything -

No gifts, no power, no wisdom,

But I will boast in Jesus Christ

His death and resurrection.

Why should I gain from His reward?

I cannot give an answer.

But this I know with all my heart -

His wounds have paid my ransom."

As James Dobson said, He DOES "love them more than you do."  He loves Caleb, and He loves me with a love that led Him to "give His only Son to make a wretch (like me) His treasure... It was MY sin that held Him there"... And yet, God was willing to give His perfect, sinless Son for someone as despicable as me.  That's a love that we should all aspire to have - to love as God loves.  What an awesome thought that should bring us to our knees.

I believe God gives us human relationships for several reasons.  Of course, one of those is to enrich our lives and to bring us great joy.  But I think another thing He does in giving those relationships is to help us understand - in our limited, human way - the love and relationships He sustains with us.

The church is described in the New Testament as both the Body and the Bride of Christ.  We know what it means to take care of our bodies and how the members must all work together.  Our knowledge of that gives us a better understanding of how the spiritual family works with Christ as the Head.  And the beautiful imagery we have in Ephesians 5 of the marriage relationship is really a picture of Christ's love for the church.  Paul even says so in Ephesians 5:32.  And these children God has blessed me with help me to have a small inkling of the depth of love my Heavenly Father has for me.  What a blessing.

Starting to feel better, and beating his mom at Phase 10

So, today I am thankful.  Thankful for Caleb's improvement, and that I was able to be here to help when he needed me; overwhelmed with gratitude for a God and Father who listens and responds to our prayers; grateful for doctors and medical knowledge that helped facilitate that healing.  And mostly thankful for the relationships God gives us here that help us feel and understand His amazing, undeserved, all-encompassing love.

"Behold, what manner of love the Father has bestowed on us, that we should be called children of God!" ~1 John 3:1

Pre-surgery on the first day - it went downhill from here ;)  

"Time is a dressmaker specializing in alterations." ~Faith Baldwin

"Spin and twirl like you did when you were four years old!"  Those were the words spoken to Becca by our wedding photographer as we stood in a field near the wedding venue on a beautiful fall afternoon taking bridal portraits.  And as she twirled, my eyes filled with tears as my mind's eye looked at her and saw that little four-year-old Becca - now a beautiful, elegant young lady attired as a bride.  She's all grown up now, but she is still the same basic package as that little twirling four-year-old.

I remember the concern I had for her back then - our emotional child.  She was the one who was difficult to comfort in her infancy, and as she reached toddlerhood and preschool days, she cried - a LOT.  I remember having conversations with Jeff where I wondered out loud why she was so "unhappy."  Was I being a bad mother?  Why did every little thing make her melt into a sea of tears?  In fact, I was so desperate, I made a "Happy Chart."   If she made it all day without crying, she got a sticker.  And so many stickers resulted in a reward.  Probably not the best parenting decision, but like I said, I was desperate!

Back in those days, I was scared to death of what adolescence would bring.  I mean, if she was this emotional NOW, what would happen when puberty and hormones struck?  I heard horror stories from other moms that only fed my concern.

But guess what happened instead?  Becca grew.  And I did a lot of praying.  And as time passed, our little emotional Becca grew into a more mature emotional Becca.  By that, I mean she still is easily moved to tears.  But now, her tears are not the selfish tantrum rants of childhood.  Instead, she feels the pain of others, and that moves her to help.  She loves deeply.  And she thoughtfully appreciates the important moments of life.  I know her upcoming wedding day will be filled with tears.  (She's already warned her make-up lady to use only waterproof makeup!). But I would not trade my loving, caring, thoughtful, emotional Becca for anything.

Our other two children came with different personalities, but they also caused concern for their mom. Sarah was our "five year old with a forty year old mind."  She thought deep thoughts, and sometimes seemed to carry the burden of the world on her tiny shoulders.  I worried that she would not be able to enjoy life because she took everything so seriously.  She was always my "helper," and from a very early age, she would give up what she wanted for someone else - usually one of her siblings.  Our little Sarah, who was always putting others first, caused me to be concerned at times that her giving spirit might later cause her to be resentful.  But now, that serious-minded precious soul is a wonderful wife and mommy, who has fun playing with her baby girl - all the while, teaching her the important things of life -- loving God, serving Him, and loving others.  Our serious-minded, selfless Sarah uses that wonderful quality to anticipate needs and offer an "others first", disciplined service to her family and others.  I love that about her.  And at times, I catch glimpses of that little five-year-old Sarah - the one who, when told of the death of a dear older friend to cancer, simply stated, "Oh!  He's gone to be with God!"  Our little, thoughtful, reflective Sarah of the past is still the same basic package - with maturity.

Then there's Caleb.  Our Mr. Never-Meets-A-Stranger boy.  His outgoing personality often displayed itself as a little boy with talking to strangers, and always seeing only the best in people.  And while that's a good quality in a grown-up, it can be scary for a mom who has a naive child with that mindset.  Caleb would've gone anywhere with anyone at any time.  And while I worried a lot about his safety as a child, and people with less than honorable motives taking advantage of his carefree spirit, now I am so proud of that "people person" quality my boy possesses.  It has led him to reach out to those who are lonely, as well as those who are less fortunate.  Caleb loves people - actively, openly, and loudly.  And as a result, people love Caleb.  That is a quality his introverted mother watches with awe and maybe even a little bit of envy!  And as I see him going to Guatemala to help people, or just reaching out to someone who is lonely, I sometimes see that little boy - the one who handed out scribbled "notes" to widows at church before he could write.  And I realize he's the same person - just a grown-up version.

Lately, I've had several young mothers express concern to me about their little ones.  I've heard questions like, "Why is little Johnny so stubborn?" or "Why does Suzy argue about everything?".  And I want to tell those mothers, it will be ok!  Those personality traits can be developed with maturity to make your children great leaders!  But what is a mom to do while in the middle of the frustrations of parenthood?  Pray -- WITH them and FOR them.  And pray for yourself, for wisdom!  Work with your children on developing their inherent personality traits for their good.  Teach them to use their talents for God.  Be consistent and loving in your discipline.

Isn't that what God does with us?  Look at Peter - that impetuous apostle who walked on water (and then sank), who boldly defended his Lord by cutting off the ear of Malchus (only to be rebuked by his Master), who hung around outside during the trial (only to deny His King), and who, although outrun by John to the empty tomb, did not hesitate to be the first inside.  This same Peter later wrote First and Second Peter.  Read those letters.  Notice the strength and faith of this man who wrote, "... if anyone suffers as a Christian, he is not to be ashamed, but is to glorify God in this name."  Although we do not have an inspired record of how he died, historical writings say he was crucified head-down because he did not consider himself worthy to die in the same manner as his Lord. Peter grew.  And he was able to use his impetuous passion in a more disciplined way, doing great things for God.

So whether you're a parent in the throes of dealing with the problems of childish immaturity, or you are sometimes frustrated with yourself and your own lack of discipline, be encouraged.  Isaiah 64:8 states, "But now, O LORD, You are our Father, We are the clay, and You our potter; And all of us are the work of Your hand."  Pray for God to give you wisdom to mold your children for Him.  And likewise, we all should be praying for ourselves to always be moldable in His capable hands.

“Grandmotherhood initiated me into a world of play, where all things became fresh, alive, and honest again through my grandchildren's eyes. Mostly, it retaught me love.” ~Sue Monk Kidd

This morning, Facebook reminded me through their "On This Day" app that I had "memories" there from one year ago today.  I didn't need the reminder.  This very moment one year ago, I was in the car on the longest trip ever - the 3 1/2 hour eternal ride to Houston, receiving occasional text updates from Ryan as to how Sarah's labor was progressing.  I can still FEEL the emotions of that day as I remember every detail... receiving Ryan's "Welcome Lydia Grace Renz" text with the first photo of the new baby and mama as we walked through the doors of the hospital; walking into that hospital room as my firstborn baby handed me her firstborn baby; holding that sweet little one for the first time; watching as each of the most special people in Lydia's new life met her for the first time - her Pappy, her Grammie and Grandpa, her crazy Uncle Caleb, and her Aunt B (and future Uncle J!).  So much joy, and love . . . overwhelming love.

Over the past year, I have treasured every moment.  And Lydia really does make every moment more special!  Like the quote above, being a Mimi has made every experience I am blessed to have with Lydia more "fresh, alive, and honest."  And it has taught me an entirely new kind of love.  My favorite moments have been these...


The cuddle times...  especially during her first few weeks of life, when her mommy and daddy needed sleep, and Mimi had middle-of-the night hours of rocking.  I would sit and just stare at her - soaking in the feel, and the smell, and the sound of her.  And the other rocking and cuddling times over the past year - when the grownups were playing Ticket to Ride, and Mimi gladly volunteered to rock the baby.  Or when Lydia just didn't seem to want to nap in her bed, but was perfectly content to sleep in Mimi's arms for a couple of hours.  I could literally hold that sleeping baby for days if she would let me!

But I've also loved all the other moments with Lydia as well... giving her baths, playing with her, reading to her, and just watching her discover her world . . .

And, of course, it is great fun to take selfies with Lydia!

I love watching Sarah navigate her new world of motherhood, and I do that with awe and wonder.  She is such an amazing mother - I always knew she would be, but it gives me such pride and joy to be able to observe that sweet love and interaction between my baby with her baby.

Lydia is a wonderful mix of the two people who love her most - her parents.  From day one, she has looked so much like her daddy.  And as her personality has emerged, I see so much of our little Sarah.  Lydia loves books, and is so very careful as she turns the pages - just like her mommy.  She is also quite purposeful as she moves around, taking great care to not get hurt - just like Sarah always did.  And Lydia LOVES baby dolls, and loves to hug and kiss them - just like our little toddler Sarah.  I love watching all of that, and also seeing those aspects of her personality that are uniquely Lydia.

Anne Tyler wrote of grandchildren,"“She loved them so much that she felt a kind of hollowness on the inner surface of her arms whenever she looked at them- an ache of longing to pull them close and hold them tight against her.”   I think every grandmother can relate to that "ache of longing" she writes about.  This love - this wonderful experience of being a Mimi - is indescribable.  

The writer of Proverbs put it best when he wrote, "Grandchildren are the crowning glory of the aged" (Proverbs 17:6).

What a wonderful year!  So blessed, so thankful, and so prayerful - praying for Lydia's continued good health and growth, especially her growth in the Lord as she is taught each day about Him by her capable parents.  Prayerful that she will always have a heart that is tender to that godly instruction, and that she will grow up to honor Him.  And also prayerful for many more - both more years, and . . . more grandchildren!

Happy Birthday, Lydia!!  You rock my world!  Can't wait to see you TOMORROW!

“A Grandmother thinks of her grandchildren day and night, even when they are not with her. She will always love them more than anyone would understand.” ~Karen Gibbs

Last week I was in Houston amid boxes and tape as I helped my oldest prepare for her family's imminent move out of state.  This wasn't the first packing rodeo for me - far from it!  I've packed and moved our kids so many times, I'm considering opening my own packing business - "Mimi's Movers" has quite a ring to it, don't you think?  I have become quite proficient with bubble wrap and Sharpies, and to date I don't think we've lost a piece of glassware yet on my packing watch.

I thought I had experienced all of the "firsts" of leaving our kids and our kids leaving.  I remember the first day of Preschool when a three-year-old Caleb and I dropped his sisters off, and how all the way home he asked, "Mommy, where girls?" as I choked back tears; and then repeating the same thing the next year as we left them at Kindergarten for the first time.  Then I vividly remember how empty I felt the day I left Caleb at his first day of Kindergarten - what would I do with my time and no shadows?  I remember going to Walmart because I couldn't bear going back to an empty house, only to see lots of moms with their little ones shopping with them, which was actually worse than going home.  In all of those cases, though, we adjusted to our new normal.  But every year after that, the first day of school always brought a twinge of sadness to me, as it was a tangible milestone - another step in their growth and journey to independence.  Bittersweet.

I also remember the first time I left our girls at Florida College Missouri Camp - walking back up the sidewalk to the car as Becca sobbed, "Don't leave me here!"  It was a long drive back to Texas, but I later found out she was fine pretty much the minute after we left.  And then every year thereafter, I would miss them while they were at camp, but knew that it was good for them.  So good.  In fact, Caleb still goes!

And who can ever forget the first time of leaving your children at college?  I remember exactly how I felt the hot August afternoon when we descended the stairs at the girls' apartment and got into the car as a family of three, leaving behind the two who had made us parents.  It seemed like the most unnatural thing in the world to leave them there.  But we did, and two years later we did the same thing with their brother, and then we were back to two.  But we adjusted to that as well.  And they flourished and grew.

In the ensuing years we've had other firsts - we put two of them on an airplane at different times and watched as they left the country to study abroad.  Then they left college, taking jobs in other cities resulting in more moves - permanent addresses as opposed to the temporary college residences.  One moved back home for a short time and has now returned to school.  And we even added one by subtraction, as we permanently removed Sarah from our "payroll" by adding Ryan to our family.  We will be moving another one across her current town in December as we add to our family once again by marriage.

That's a lot of moves.  And a lot of change.  A lot of living, growing, and adjusting.  But this time - this move of Sarah's family - is different and new.  While I've moved my kids a lot of places over the past 25 years, this will be the first time that any of them have moved out of the great state of Texas.  For the first time ever (other than her brief stint in Costa Rica), it will take longer than three hours by car to get to her.

And then there's Lydia.  I'm still very new at this Mimi thing, but it really has been the BEST ten and a half months with the sweetest addition ever to my life!  It doesn't seem to lose its wonder - every interaction with her is ... well, I have no words!  I see so much of our ten-month-old Sarah in her - especially in her personality.  The way she loves books and baby dolls; how she is so very careful when she pulls up on the coffee table - ironically, the same one her mother pulled up on (which I think is going in a dumpster in Houston next week - don't be sad, it's time!); the way she loves to cuddle; and I could go on and on.  I know that distance will prevent us from seeing her as often as we have since her birth.  And that pulls at this Mimi's heartstrings.

But I've learned something through the years and all of the leaving.  It will be ok!  We will adjust.  We always do.  It could be worse.  And we will treasure even more the times we get to share.  Text pictures and Facetime calls will have new meaning and renewed appreciation.

As I go road trippin' next week with Sarah and Lydia to Nashville, help them unpack, and leave them in their new home to fly back to Texas, I am sure I will feel some sadness.  I've felt it before, and I'm sure I will feel it again!  But overriding the sadness will be so much gratitude - thankfulness for the relationship I have with my daughter that makes it hard to leave her; grateful for a son-in-law who seeks to provide what is best for his family; thankful that they are serving the Lord no matter where they live; and overwhelmingly blessed to be Mimi to that precious little soul.

Debra Ginsberg wrote, "Through the blur, I wondered if I was alone or if other parents felt the same way I did - that everything involving our children was painful in some way. The emotions, whether they were joy, sorrow, love or pride, were so deep and sharp that in the end they left you raw, exposed and yes, in pain. The human heart was not designed to beat outside the human body and yet, each child represented just that - a parent's heart bared, beating forever outside its chest.”  And may I add grandchildren to that equation as well.  So if you see my "hearts" in Dallas or Nacogdoches - or soon in Nashville - give them a hug for me.  And the little piece of my heart that will be left here in Whitehouse could probably use one as well.

“

"To the outside world, we all grow old. But not to brothers and sisters. We know each other as we always were. We know each other's hearts. We share private family jokes. We remember family feuds and secrets, family griefs and joys. We live outside the touch of time." ~Clara Ortega

Our kids were all home for Memorial Day weekend, and I'm smart enough to know it's not just their parents or Mom's cooking that drew them here.  A big part of "us" is their relationship with each other.  Prior to that weekend, all three asked me, "When is everyone getting there?"  They couldn't wait to see each other.

In an article entitled "The Secret World of Siblings" published in the January 10, 1994 edition of U.S. News & World Report, Erica E. Goode wrote, "Sibling relationships — and 80 percent of Americans have at least one — outlast marriages, survive the death of parents, resurface after quarrels that would sink any friendship. They flourish in a thousand incarnations of closeness and distance, warmth, loyalty and distrust."

The sibling relationship is unique.  These three that began life in our home not only share common DNA, but they also share a common perspective.  They grew up together, and two of them even grew inside of me together.  From their earliest days - and childish conflicts - I made it a point to stress to them the unique nature of their relationships with one another.  I wanted them to grow up as best friends, and to maintain that closeness as adults.  I remember telling them that childhood friendships would come and go, but sisters and brothers were forever.  I would remind them that it would be their siblings who would be there when they got married, and those same people would be there when they had their babies.  And someday it will be the same three who will share the common experience and grief of burying their parents.  Now that they're grown, I love seeing the love they have for one another.

Yes, they have fun, and when they come together in our home, the walls reverberate with their laughter.  Certain things are assured when they're together - like the teasing Becca will get about how she's always cold, and how the girls will laugh hysterically at anything their brother does - along with rolling their eyes at times.  And we won't even talk about family games . . . All of that is loud, and boisterous, and fun, and all of that makes this mama smile.

But what I love even more than their jovial times together is the way they are fiercely protective of one another, and especially how they are touched by the events in the lives of each other.  Like the tears that flowed between a brother and sister during a private moment at Sarah's wedding - a moment that was captured by the photographer who later told me, "Your kids really love each other!"  Or the loving embrace between sisters when they first saw one another following Becca's engagement, when I could literally feel the bond that was there.  I have many other such moments in my memory, but these are two that are forever captured on film.  When I witness these moments - with or without a camera - they are always noticed, and nothing touches my heart more.

Now one of those three is about to move out of state with her own family, which will mean a greater geographical separation than they've ever experienced long term.  As family and friends have learned about the impending move, I've heard a lot about how difficult it will be for Jeff and me to have our grandbaby living so far away; and how it will be an exciting time for Sarah's family, but it will also be a time of adjustment for them.  While all of that is true, one of the things I haven't really heard anyone address is that strong sibling bond.  Perhaps that in itself is a sad commentary on the state of many sibling relationships today.  But I know my kids, and as happy as they all are for the new adventure for Sarah's family, this will not be an easy transition for any of them.

While that may appear to be sad, to me it's not.  To be honest, nothing brings me more joy!  That shared sorrow our three children have at the distant relocation of one of them, only speaks to the strength of their bonds with one another.  If they weren't close, they wouldn't care.  What a blessing.  A blessing for each of them, but also a very satisfying blessing for me as their mother.  I love how they love each other.  And I know that whether they all three live next door to each other, or end up on opposite sides of the country, that bond is unbreakable.

So when our next family gathering is planned and on the calendar, and each of them begins to ask, "When is everyone getting there?," I will smile, and thank God for the bond that brings them together - a unique bond borne of common parentage and upbringing, and solidified by the shared life goals they each have in Christ as children of God - a bond that will truly last forever.

“Siblings are the people we practice on, the people who teach us about fairness and cooperation and kindness and caring - quite often the hard way.”  ~Pamela Dugdale

“Everyone must leave something behind when he dies . . . Something your hand touched some way . . . It doesn't matter what you do, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that's like you after you take your hands away.” ― Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

 I have his harmonica.  He saved his money as a boy and ordered it from a catalog.  Once he received it in the mail, he told me that he would spend his summer evenings outside learning to play it.  I remember as a child listening to him play as we would sit in the swing on the patio - he could play anything you asked him to.  When I was probably 10 or 11 years old I asked him to teach me how to play it, and he did.  After his sudden and unexpected death almost 13 years ago, his harmonica was the one thing I most wanted of his possessions.  It now resides in a curio cabinet in our dining room.  I see it often, and occasionally I will take it from its spot on that shelf and play it a little.  The smell, the feel of it on my lips, and the sounds that emanate from it take me back to a very sweet place.  That little harmonica - which is probably worth very little, if anything, by the world's standards - is priceless to me.  It is a piece of my daddy.

 I also have his telescope.  He loved nature, and knew all about the stars and planets.  I can remember riding in the car with him at night long before we had compasses built into our vehicles, and if he wasn't sure of the direction we were going, he would look up at the stars to orient himself.  And while most people who take an interest in space and desire to get a closer look through a telescope would go out and purchase one, not my daddy.  No, he built one.  He purchased a book (which I now have) titled "How to Make a Telescope," and that's exactly what he did.  And when I say he built it, I mean from the ground up.  The only things he purchased that were ready-made were the viewfinder he attached to the outside of the barrel, and the eye-pieces.  I still remember my mother's annoyance as he used her pristine kitchen to grind the lenses and make the mirrors.  After he completed it, I remember many evenings of standing on a footstool to look through the eyepiece at stars and planets he had brought into focus and up close for me.  And on the few occasions we would experience a solar eclipse, he would use his telescope to project the image quite largely onto our garage door as all of the neighborhood kids would gather to watch.  That telescope now occupies space in our garage.  And while others might find value in it as a novel item, it holds special value to me.  My daddy's hands made it - it is a piece of him.  And the memories I have associated with his telescope are precious to me.

Not only was Daddy skilled at building scientific projects like a telescope, but he was also an incredible woodworking craftsman.  I have a shelf he built for me that hangs in our living room, and I also have a rocking cradle he made for us before the girls were born.  He designed the plans, carved the wood, put it together, carved a decorative "S" into the headboard, and varnished it.  It is beautifully crafted, and a special piece of furniture to me because my daddy made it.  All three of our children slept there as infants, and we also put Lydia there on a few of her early visits.  It made me smile to know that my daddy's cradle, crafted by his hands, held his first great-grandchild.  I know he would've loved that.

As much as Daddy loved nature and creating things with his hands, his greatest passion was books - especially the Bible.  I can still see him sitting in the patio swing, or in colder months in his living room rocking chair, with an opened book in his hands.  I have many of the books that he once read and enjoyed, but my favorite is a copy of the Bible that he put together for his own study.  He divided the text into five categories, placed them in binders, and he would highlight and write profuse notes as he studied the text.  As a young adult, I would often call him if I was studying a difficult passage and had a question to get his thoughts.  That is one of the things I have missed most about him since his passing - there are still days that I just wish I could call my daddy.  But he really left me the next best thing - his thoughts about God's word, penciled in his own handwriting.  I'm currently teaching a class of young ladies on Paul's letter to the Romans, and my daddy helped me study yesterday.  As I read his words written in his familiar script, I can hear his voice.  I'm thankful to have that piece of him still with me.

He left other things behind as well.  Like the gardening and landscaping skills he had which still live on in my mother's yard.  Or the paintings he created that still hang in her living room.  Pieces of him that remain.  I'm thankful for those tangible elements that help him to live on in my life.  But what I'm most thankful for as we approach another Father's Day is what he took with him - a deep faith in God, which led to a life of service in His kingdom.  October 6, 2003 was the day he spent his whole life preparing for - the day of his death.  I have no doubt that my daddy lives today in God's presence.  And I know that when I join him there, I won't miss the treasured "pieces" of him I have here, because we will share eternity in a place where we've never been more whole.  What a blessing.  How thankful I am to serve such a God who gives such hope.  And how blessed I was to call Bob Meadows my daddy.

"One father is more than a hundred schoolmasters."  ~George Herbert

“Being a mother is not about what you gave up to have a child, but what you’ve gained from having one.” ~Sunny Gupta

As I stepped outside to sweep off the front porch yesterday, my neighbor was riding by on her bicycle and she stopped to chat.  I walked to the street, and we briefly caught up on each other's lives.  Jane shared with me that her two oldest would be graduating from college over the next two weeks, and that all four of her children would be home for the summer.  I told her about our kids' latest happenings - and of course, the most PRECIOUS baby in the world, aka Lydia.  And as I turned to walk back inside the house I realized something - other than our initial brief exchange about last weekend's flooding, the entire conversation was about our kids.

I've thought about that a lot today, especially as I was out and about, and wished a "Happy Mother's Day" by several store clerks.  I've been a mother now for over half my life.  My children are grown and gone from home, and I wear other hats besides the "mom hat."  I am a wife, and I love this season of life with Jeff as "empty-nesters."  I have other responsibilities, friendships, and interests, but much of my identity is bound up in Sarah, Becca and Caleb - the three who have that unique relationship with me, their mom.

They have grown up.  They have left home, and have their own lives, homes, friends, and interests.

I miss the days of paper bouquets and Mother's Day school teas.  I miss the thrill in their eyes when they would present me with their special handmade gifts.  I miss the sloppy kisses, small armed hugs, and bedtime cuddles.  I miss the giggles, the noise, and even the childish tears.  I even miss the parent pick-up line at school - wait, did I really just say that?  And there's so much more . . . But if I allow myself to only dwell on what I miss from their childhoods, I would sadly lose sight of what I now have in place of those special times . . . 

 NOW, I have the hour-long phone calls from my Sarah like I enjoyed this morning, where we just catch up on life.  As we talk, I'm blessed to hear sweet Lydia in the background, as well as the sounds of Sarah getting their supper in the crock-pot. Not to mention that NOW I get daily Lydia pictures via text message.  I also get wonderful visits from time to time, when she brings her little family here and new memories are made.  And I smile, and thank God for NOW and this wonderful young lady who calls me "mom" and is serving God and loving her family.  And that our sweet little book-loving, tender-hearted, and giving Princess has grown into a strong, loving woman of God, who is also my friend.  

NOW I also have the phone calls from Becca.  Sometimes she might need a "pep talk" about an upcoming test, or advice on cooking a meal.  But more often she, like her sister, just calls to catch up.  I also NOW have the text messages from Becca, which usually drip with sarcasm.  And NOW I have the pleasure of seeing that our little, sensitive "Miss Grumpet" as we sometimes called her in her childhood has developed that compassion in a way that reaches out to help others.  She has found her "niche" in nursing, and will excel in that field.  And NOW I am blessed to hear people who know her and see her serving in her new church home tell me what a blessing she is to those around her.  NOW I thank God for our little Sweet Pea who has grown into a sensitive, caring young lady, who is also my friend.

And then there's the Caleb I have now!  Our boy is now a young man, and if he had stayed that little boy I would miss out on so much with him!  NOW I have his text messages and Facetime calls where he tells me about his day, and will often ask, "So what do you think?"  Now I have his "surprise" visits when he brings his dog here for the weekend, and am blessed to see the passion he has for every aspect of life.  NOW I hear good things about his service to God from others as well, and our little boy who never met a stranger is now a young man who continues to brighten the lives of others with his can-do attitude and his winning smile.  NOW I can thank God that our little Buddy Boy has grown into  a self-supporting, productive member of society, who serves God by using the talents he has been given.  And he is also my friend, who continually reminds me to enjoy THIS moment.

There's one more area that makes me smile NOW when I think of our children.  And that's their love for each other.  They talk to one another, and try to get together when they can.  Whenever I talk to one of them, no matter which one, we ALWAYS include discussion of the other two in our conversations.  They are fiercely protective of each other.  I love how they love each other NOW, in place of the childhood squabbles they sometimes experienced.

Even though my children are grown, I will be their mother until the day I die.  I continue to pray for each of them daily, as I have done since they were conceived.  And I will continue to feel the heights of their joys and the depths of their despair in a way I feel for no other.  Because of them, I am a better person than I ever could've been without them.  Because of them, I get to experience adding in other children via marriage, and I also get to experience the wonderful world of being a Mimi.  But perhaps most important, because of them, I have a little better understanding of the love God has for me - His child.  What a blessing.  Thank you, children - God gave me the best when He made me your mother.

"We hear a lot about identity theft when someone takes your wallet and pretends to be you and uses your credit cards. But the more serious identity theft is to get swallowed up in other people's definition of you." ~Stephen R. Covey

The letter came in the mail in late February with the return address of the Internal Revenue Service.  My first thought was that we were being audited.  If only . . . Instead, the letter was from the Fraud Division of the Treasury Department, and it was to inform us that someone had filed a fraudulent tax return for 2015 in our names.  Not only did the perpetrator have our names, but they also had our social security numbers.

Fortunately, the IRS caught the fraud.  They deleted the fraudulent return from their system, but our work had only begun.  We have had to go through a series of steps that began with our very own modern-day version of "To Tell the Truth," only the REAL Jeff and Tracy had to do much more than simply stand up.  The first step was verifying our identity online, answering a series of questions about ourselves that involved information about previous addresses and phone numbers.  We were even unsure about some of the information we were asked to verify - I mean, seriously - who remembers a phone number they had 20 years ago?  We apparently clicked something that was wrong, because we were informed that our identity could not be verified online, so we had to call a certain phone number.

If you've ever dealt with the IRS over a problem during the height of tax season, you know that making a connection with an actual person by phone is an exercise in patience.  But contact was finally made, and our identities were successfully verified.  That phone call was followed by another letter with more instructions.

You see, once this has happened to you, it is impossible to file your tax return online - it has to be mailed, along with a bunch of verifying information, including Identity Theft Affidavits.  Additionally, we were urged to file a complaint with the FTC, contact all three major credit bureaus to put a "fraud alert" on our accounts, and to closely monitor each one.  We even signed up with Lifelock to help prevent additional damage by the potential misuse of our personal information.

All of that takes time.  And ironically, in every single one of those steps, we have to PROVE that we are indeed who we say we are.  Sometimes that's not easy, and sometimes - all the time - it is annoyingly time consuming and frustrating.  But the time and expense are worth it - we've worked hard to develop good "credit names" over the course of our adult lives, and we want to protect those names at all costs!

The other day I ran across the quote by Stephen Covey that I used as the title for this post.  The thoughts expressed there, along with our recent identity theft problems, have made me think a lot about my name.  The writer of Ecclesiastes tells us that "a good name is better than precious ointment," and Proverbs 22:1 states, "A good name is to be chosen rather than great riches."  Yes, names are important.  Just think of the public figures we know who have ruined their names - Jared Fogle and Bill Cosby immediately come to mind.  Both of those names have much different meanings than they did several years ago.

Tracy Stewart.  What does that name mean to those who hear it?  When anyone who knows me hears my name, it conjures up certain thoughts in their minds about who I am as they know me.  I hope those feelings that come with my name are positive and encouraging, but that may not always be so.  Perhaps I've hurt someone, or disappointed others, and that's what they associate with my name.  I hope not.  But if such is the case with you, I hope you will give me the opportunity to make that right.  Sometimes we can even have a negative feeling when we hear someone's name because of false information - we call that slander.  And that is as troubling and as unfortunate as identity theft - maybe even more so.  We all desire to have that "good name" spoken of in Scripture.

But the more important thought is what does God think when He hears my name?  That's really the only identity that truly matters.  With God, I never have to prove my identity - He knows me.  No one can impersonate me with Him.  And no one can slander my name - He knows the REAL me.  God told Jeremiah, "Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you..."  (Jer. 1:5), and the same is true of us all. Likewise, God told Moses in Exodus 33:12, "I know you by name," and in that beautiful analogy Jesus gives us in John 10 of Himself as the Good Shepherd and His followers as His sheep, He says that "He calls His own sheep by name..."  Yes, He knows my name.  And ultimately the only thing that matters is what God thinks.

Revelation 21:27 tells us that "only those whose names are written in the lamb's book of life" will be able to enter heaven.  I'm thankful that no one can steal my spiritual identity.  And I won't have to prove who I am - no "fraud alerts," or Identity Theft Affidavits or complaints will have to be filed.  May God help me to keep my name as one that always belongs to Him.