"The gravestones are like rows of books bearing the names of those whose names have been blotted from the pages of life; who have been forgotten elsewhere but are remembered here.” ~ Dean Koontz

I have always been fascinated with cemeteries and the stories they tell.  That is, as long as it doesn't involve the story of someone I have known and loved.  I know many people find comfort in visiting the gravesites of loved ones, but for me, there is no comfort in that.  I have only been to the cemetery where my father is buried a handful of times since his death thirteen years ago - - to me, I would rather remember him in places where he lived.  The only memories I have of him associated with that cemetery are sad and painful ones of the day we left his corpse there to be lowered into the ground - a day that capped off a shocking, sad, and painful week.

However, walking through a cemetery full of graves from the 1700's and 1800's is captivating.  Jeff and I have spent this week in Charleston, South Carolina.  On Monday, we toured the downtown area, and spent some time walking around in several graveyards.  (Incidentally, I learned this week that a graveyard is a burial ground that adjoins a church, as opposed to a cemetery, which does not.)  Many of the stones there were so worn by time and elements that they were illegible.  Others, however, told stories.

These days, our tombstones generally have minimal information.  You can often learn the name of the deceased, along with their birth and death dates.  Some will have relationship information on them, or a Bible verse.  But the stones we found in the graveyards in Charleston read more like obituaries.  I was particularly struck by this one . . .

This family lost six children, ranging in age of death from ten months to seventeen years.  These children died between the years 1828 and 1839.  I stood there reading their names - Robert was one year old; Frederick lived to the age of four and a half; Judith was just shy of her tenth birthday; Eliza was only ten months old; Charlotte was eighteen months old - the current age of my sweet grandchild; and James, who lived to be seventeen years old.  I wondered as I stood there how many other children the Ladson's may have had.  What pain and suffering these parents endured.  And while it was not uncommon in that period of time to lose children to death, I'm quite sure the higher death rate statistics did nothing to lessen the pain. At the bottom of the stone is this inscription:  "Dedicated in early life to the service of the Lord, we rest in faith that through Him they have obtained a more perfect inheritance."  

Another stone that fascinated me was this one . . .

Margaret Elford was only 43 years old when she died in May of 1817.  The inscription reads, "Leaving a husband with seven young children to lament their irreparable loss.  She was:  In childhood obedient; in wedlock virtuous; in prosperity humble; in adversity resigned; in sickness patient; in death happy."  I would've liked to have known Margaret.  She was obviously loved and adored by her family.  As I stood there, I wondered about the seven Elford children, and their "irreparable loss."  Again, death at the age of 43 was not that uncommon back then.  However, to the Elford family, I am sure death came way too soon for their beloved wife and mother.  

So many families affected, and so many stories among the stones we read.  These were just a few that made an impression on me.  

In the young ladies' Bible study I teach, we discussed Romans 12:9 -16 last week.  And we began that study by asking ourselves how we would want to be remembered, as this particular passage of Scripture is a very practical "how-to" guide on demonstrating God-like love.  Love without action is not love.  How am I living out that love in my life?  Additionally, the writer of Ecclesiastes stated, "It is better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting, for this is the end of all mankind, and the living will lay it to heart." (Eccl. 7:9)  

As we left that graveyard Monday afternoon, I took it to heart.  What will be written on my gravestone?  If I have suffered great loss as the Ladson family did, will I exemplify the same hope they did in the simple inscription at the bottom of the memorial to their children that continues to proclaim their faith 160 years later?  And what about the epitaph of Margaret Elford?  I can think of no greater commendation than was written about her, except maybe for the addition of "In all of life Christlike."  

Today I am making my life story, and you are making yours.  One day at a time.  And we don't know when the story will end.  So today, let's be sure we love without hypocrisy, abhor what is evil and cling to what is good.  Let's truly love one another with brotherly affection, and outdo each other in demonstrating that love.  Today, let's be zealous and fervent in our service to the Lord, as we rejoice in hope, show patience in tribulation, and have a constancy in prayer.  Let's be busy about contributing to those in need and showing hospitality today.  Let's spend today blessing those who persecute us, rejoicing with someone who is joyful, and weeping with someone who is not.  And today, let's live in harmony with all.  If I do all of those things today, and resolve to do them again tomorrow, and every day until my story ends, my story will end well.  And while there may be no epitaph written on my actual gravestone, the commemoration written on the hearts of those who share my life will be enough.  That, and the eternal salvation God has graciously offered me in Christ.  

Walk through a cemetery sometime.  It is time well-spent.

“Your children are the greatest gift God will give to you, and their souls the heaviest responsibility He will place in your hands. Take time with them, teach them to have faith in God. Be a person in whom they can have faith. When you are old, nothing else you've done will have mattered as much.” ~Lisa Wingate

A few week ago I was blessed to be able to travel to Tennessee to spend some time with sweet Lydia and her parents.  Lydia and I had some wonderful moments together throughout that week.  She was a big helper as we went to the paint store in helping to pick out perfect paint samples...

Every morning that I was there began the same way... Lydia woke up around six o'clock, and we would snuggle up with a cup of apple juice and a blanket, and spend a little FaceTime with Pappy.  Some mornings we read books together, while other days we would just quietly snuggle as Mimi soaked in every moment.  I made a deliberate attempt to file in my memory the feel, the smell, and the sound of this sweet little soul.

Some days were cold and rainy, and we enjoyed inside play time on those days...

We did silly things like her new "dance," which her mama named "fast feet..."

We put picnic tablecloths on our heads, and ran around the house wearing our cool shades. 

We also got to play outside on days that were sunny.  We "fed" the ceramic bunnies, ran up and down the driveway, watched birds in the trees, picked up sticks, and listened to dogs barking down the street...

But the most memorable times of the week were those moments when Lydia showed me that she's learning what her parents are being so faithful and consistent at teaching her about God.  It began on Sunday morning.  As the Lord's Supper was served, and I held Lydia in my lap, she watched intently as I drank the fruit of the vine... then she proceeded to put her tiny fingers up to her paci, tilt her head back, and pretend to do exactly what I had just done.  Later on, she faced forward on my lap as we sang "He Leadeth Me," and even though she can only speak a few recognizable words, she "sang" her little heart out.  Worshipping God with her parents is something that is a priority in her family, and she's learning to love God and His people.  And even though she does not comprehend all that is involved, she is learning to worship her Creator.

Each evening since Lydia has been old enough to be awake consistently at seven o'clock, her parents have made her bedtime ritual the same... They read a story from her Bible, sing a Bible song, and pray before she goes to bed.  Lydia knows the routine well.

On the last day of my most recent visit, Lydia repeatedly picked up her Bible and would "read" it for herself...  She would flip through the pages, sometimes quickly, other times stopping to consider a specific "passage," and she did this throughout the entire day.
But what impressed me most about that was what she would do each time she finished "reading" a particular Bible story.  As is her custom at bedtime with Mommy and Daddy, Lydia would close her Bible, fold her hands, and look at me expectantly . . . she wanted to pray.  And pray we did!  I honestly cannot tell you how many times we prayed that day, because I lost count!  But every time she closed her Bible, that's exactly what she wanted to do - every single time.

As the quote at the beginning of this post so succinctly states, it is a heavy responsibility to be a parent.  God gives us these precious souls that are pure and clean, and entrusts us with the obligation of molding them into God-fearing, Christ-following adults.  Ultimately, each child will grow up and make their own decision about serving God.  But what we do in those early, formative years as parents can make a world of difference.

So parents - and grandparents - what you do today matters.  Teach them to worship, to spend time in God's word, and to pray.  More importantly, do those things yourself.  You cannot give away what you do not possess.  And when faced with choices between spiritual things and physical things, always choose the spiritual.  Gospel meeting or baseball game?  What about Wednesday evening Bible study or homework?  Is God, His service, and His people a priority in your home?  (Many times we can make a creative effort to allow our children to participate in wholesome secular activities that initially appear to conflict with the spiritual by taking some extra steps - ask me about chasing the band bus down the interstate sometime!)  It matters a lot less what we say than what we do.  Our children will know what comes first by our actions and choices.

We all make mistakes in parenting.  My kids can certainly give you their lists of my shortcomings.  But may our children never be able to say that we did not consistently put God first in our homes.   Nothing else will ever matter more.

"All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another." ~Anatole France

It happened later this time, but it happened nonetheless.  This is the second time, and I honestly did not expect it.

The first time was June 2013, and I wasn't expecting it, then, either.  Sarah and Ryan got married, and I was so happy and excited for them!  I wrote then about how I didn't cry at their wedding, because I saw no reason to - Sarah was happy, and was marrying a good man.  Someone who would be a spiritual leader for their family, and would help her go to heaven.  I felt nothing but joy!

Until... "it" happened... I walked into her empty room the following week, and I was hit with that sudden realization that everything had changed - Sarah had a new name, and a new home.  THIS wasn't "home" to her anymore.  She wouldn't be coming here for extended periods of time, and her formerly messy room now bore no characteristic Sarah-isms.  She and her stuff were gone.  For good.

As Becca's wedding approached, several friends asked me if I was sad.  Once again, I saw no reason for melancholy.  Becca was happy, and she was marrying a good man.  I knew that he loves her, and that he would "nourish and cherish" her.  What more could a mother want?  And after all, it wasn't like Becca had been living at home full-time.  She had been on her own for quite some time, living and working in Dallas for a year after her graduation from Texas A&M.  Yes, she returned home for a short period of time while she regrouped, but then she moved to Nacogdoches - once again, she was on her own.  So with all of that in mind, I honestly did not expect the melancholy I felt following Sarah's wedding.  But I was wrong.

It didn't come immediately.  The newlyweds left their wedding venue following the reception for a week in San Diego.  As they returned last weekend, they flew into Dallas, and then drove here to spend the night.  The next morning we lingered long at the breakfast table as they told us about their San Diego adventure.  Then, they loaded up their vehicles with what was left of Becca's stuff, along with wedding gifts and (of course) Brinkley, and they made the hour-long trek to Nacogdoches to settle into their new life as husband and wife.  I smiled and felt nothing but joy for them as they left our home headed for "real life."

But then yesterday the mail came, and in the usual pile of bills and flyers was an envelope addressed to "Rebecca Stewart."  And, as I've done so many times over the past years, I walked into Becca's room and laid it on her dresser.  That's when it hit me.  The Rebecca Stewart that piece of mail was addressed to is now Rebecca O'Rear.  And she doesn't live here anymore.  She will never live here again.  The stuff that cluttered her dresser and littered her floor over the past several weeks is gone.  And now two wedding dresses hang in the closet - reminders of the two girls who grew up here; who laughed and cried here, and who giggled with their friends during late-night sleepovers; who got annoyed with each other sometimes, but more often with their brother; who got frustrated over math homework at this kitchen table as their father patiently worked through problems with them; who learned to cook and help in that same kitchen; and the countless other memories that these walls hold.  Now, Becca's room has become like Sarah's room.  And like Sarah, Becca has a new name and a new life.  One that has forever changed her relationship with her parents.  It's supposed to be that way, and it's a GOOD thing... It is God's plan, and God's ways are always best!  But it's still a little sad in a weird sort of way for at least a few moments from a mother's perspective.

But the story doesn't end there.  Thankfully, my first time taught me that.  Because they DO come back.  And they bring their husbands and their puppies.  There's more joy in that, because there are more people to love and laugh with.  And who can complain about more puppies?  Not only do they come back HERE, but they also gain a new family full of more people in other places who love them... And seriously - can you ever have too many people who love your kids?  Not possible!  And then... THEN with the passing of time, they bring BABIES.  And without the change of names, and the new homes, and all of that, there would be no new babies.  And I can tell you, there's NOTHING that compares to your babies having babies!

So yesterday it happened again.  I was sad for a moment, and felt that empty melancholy of an empty bedroom.  But that feeling was soon followed by overwhelming gratitude.  I truly have the BEST . . . the best husband, the best children, and the best sons-in-law a mom could ever hope to have.  Not to mention the absolutely sweetest, most darling granddaughter ever born!  My cup quite literally overflows.

So I will focus on those blessings and look forward to the times when they are all "home" again - filling our house with their laughter, bickering, messiness, and appetites which increase our grocery bill substantially.  And I will enjoy the in-between times when it is just Jeff and me - those days are quite sweet as well.  The FaceTime calls, phone calls, and text messages come on a regular basis, and keep us connected during those in-between visits. The sadness is gone.  Life is sweet.  I am blessed.

"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!