Friday, July 20, 2012

The Gift of Friendship

The Runner had three first grade teachers, each unique and outstanding in her field. Quiet, gentle Mrs Ellis welcomed him into her classroom with a Clifford (the big red dog) name tag, which he was happy to wear.  He loved school (not academics) but art, gym, recess and most of all, his friends.  In early spring Mrs Ellis told me he was getting less and less of his paperwork done spending most of his time doing art work on those papers. He was getting farther and farther behind and it did not bother him at all.
Fall 1989 - First grade
We made the decision to have him repeat first grade.  Mrs. Jackson's classroom was a first and second grade blended class. Other than his ability to handle a pencil and his math skills, she said you would never know he had been to first grade before.  Every Monday morning in Mrs. Jackson's class the students were allowed to put their desk anywhere they wanted for the week.  Most of them stayed in the same groups of three or four all year but not the Runner.  He moved his desk every time and sat with a different group each week.
Fall 1990 - First grade
The first week of February 1990 was a week of turmoil in Mrs. Jackson's class.  The Runner had told them he was moving and it upset the whole classroom.  At the end of his last day before we moved the entire classroom lined up to give him a hug before he left.  When we were packing to travel each of my kyds was allowed to put whatever they wanted into a backpack to take with them on the trip. Their most treasured items went into those back packs. The address book from Mrs. Jackson's class went into the Runner's back pack along with his Lego set from Christmas and Rocky the Raccoon.

On the West coast the Runner was enrolled in Mrs. Martin's classroom. Every day Mrs. Martin's class prayed for her son John  deployed in Desert Storm.  When he came home he visited their classroom to thank them.  Mrs. Martin said the Runner never asked for anything but he asked to have his picture taken with John.
The Runner and John Martin
Because we held him back the Runner was in the same grade as his sister. Did that bother him? Not at all! He was delighted. They were in adjoining first grade classrooms. Those two classes did all their art projects, movies and field trips together. For Mother's Day they did the same project and proudly brought them home. Each was a large envelope covered in flowers with a handwritten card inside. Sister's envelope was splashed with brightly colored flowers higgledy-piggledy everywhere. Inside she wrote: "I love my mom becuz she lets me mak makrny and ches." The Runner's flowers were neatly colored and placed just so. His inscription inside in pains-taking printing read: "I love you Mother."
The Runner and Sister

I love you bunches and boys in Heaven - Pat

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

The Square Chair

There is a chair in the corner. A square block of a chair. It looks padded but it is not much. Sometimes it will not budge an inch when you want it too. Other times it just rolls away on its own. A foot rest bangs out when you pull the lever. It reclines all the way if you know the right combination of pushing and pulling. You can sleep in it. Helpful nurses get you a blanket and a pillow. You kick off your shoes and crunch up on your side. The pillow slides away on the plastic. You snug the blanket up as much as possible but it is still cold. Machines click and whir. Light bothers. Lights blink. Doors slam. Time for vitals. Time for meds. Of course you cannot sleep. The only reason you are in that chair is because you are keeping the night watch. Someone you love is in pain. Someone you love is broken. Your loyalty is forefront. You take the chair.

In the past three years I have kept vigil in the chair in three different hospitals. In the wee hours of Palm Sunday 2010 the Biker falls asleep at the wheel a couple miles from home. His truck straddles a stone wall at a high rate of speed crashing through brush and trees landing in a field. He has injury all down his left side. Gashes bleeding. Broken bones. Bruises. I keep vigil in the chair. Hosanna. The Lord saves.

Fast forward Spring 2011. The Writer is for scheduled double jaw surgery with chin reconstruction at Tripler Army Medical Center. "Mom, will you come?" They won't do the surgery unless someone is here." Fifteen hours and five thousand miles. Six hour surgery. Brutal recovery. Just brutal. I keep vigil in the chair.

Georgia Summer 2012. Our first granbaby. Induction begins. Mommie labors. Daddy and Amma take turns keeping vigil in the chair. Forty three hours later the lil Geogia peach is born. Perfect. Just perfect.

God has a chair. His throne sits in the center of heaven. Oh! How He loves us. When we are broken, when we are in pain, when we are being reconstructed and restored, when some new thing is being birthed in us God's loyalty is forefront. He takes the chair. He sits vigil and keeps the night watch.

I love you bunches and lil peaches - Pat

Friday, July 13, 2012

Friday Eyes: Gift of Life

A mother's love

A father's heart 

"Perfect love sometimes does not come until the first grandchild." Welsh Proverb
Amma's Treasure

Family faces are magic mirrors. Looking at people who belong to us, we see the past, present and future.
Gail Lumet Buckley