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Monday, May 12, 2008

Discussing Heaven with a 3-year-old...


Recently, my grandfather, Gordon, died. Officially, he was my step-grandfather...but he was very good to our family & most importantly, he was a great companion for my grandmother since 1999, when they both lost their respective spouses. Ruth (my grandmother) had been married to Bill Wyche for 55 years when he died in '99. They have a terrific story that I'll have to share another time. I think some of my humor & spice come from Bill. Ruth & Bill trudged through Bill's health issues toward the end of his life...strokes, the inability to speak, wheel-chair bound...terrible life change for a rancher who just wanted to be outside on the land. Ruth cared for Bill for years before his death...it wore on her, but her love and commitment to him and to the life God had planned for her got her through.


Gordon and Ruth married and life was good for them. He died quickly as they were getting ready for bed one Saturday night. The day had been good. Family was visiting. Gordon felt good...even cracked some jokes about how he would probably outlive us all. When Mom called to tell me, I was sad for Ruth & Gordon's kids, but relieved that a) it wasn't a drawn out event & therefore hard for Ruth to physically & emotionally tackle, b) Gordon was in a better place because of his solid faith in Christ.


Drew and I had to tell Cydney. Summary - In heaven with God...not in pain...we'll miss him but we are glad that we'll see him someday...and we can be sad that Ruth won't have him around. but we have to thank God for eternal life & for taking care of Gordon.


We went to the funeral. And I have to say, some people might think me cold, but I wasn't moved to tears. I was content...content that Gordon is safe & his soul not in torment.


Cyd was sweet after the funeral--telling Ruth that Gordon was with God and we didn't need to worry. Giving out hugs, etc.


Fast forward a few weeks...Cyd and Stroman were playing and she banged (accident) his head into the edge of the tiled kitchen counters. He loses it. And who could blame him, it hurt. Drew is holding him to get him to calm down & I notice the blood. The accident had split his eyelid and my little baby was hurt. I wanted to convey to Cyd that we had to be more careful with the little ones. She felt remorseful & helped round up the items to tend to the wounds.


While in the bathroom washing the cut and applying an adhesive bandage, Drew (a First Aid instructor, what do I have to worry about? He's going to calmly explain what he's doing to Cyd and help her with the situation, right? wrong.) explained to Cyd that Stroman would end up with a scar.


Cyd : "But it will go away, right?"

Drew: "No, a scar stays on our skin forever."

Cyd: "But when the scab comes off, it'll be all healed up, huh?"

Drew: "No, Cyd. A scar will be there forever...until he goes up to be with Jesus in heaven."

Cyd: shocked "Stroman's going to heaven to be with Gordon?!?!"

Drew: holding back a laugh "No honey, but when he does go to heaven, he'll have a scar."

Cyd: not hearing a thing he said "But I don't want Stroman to go yet!" cue tear....


As is only fitting with the TITLE OF THIS BLOG...the next day we were changing the bandage:


Cyd: "Is it all healed up?"

Me: "No, not yet."

Cyd: in that anticipatory voice of a child who might be sharing a secret... "He's fixin' to go be with Gordon in heaven."

Me: "DREW!"


I think we got it all figured out and when Stroman wakes up from his nap, I'll get a photo of his black eye & the scar (tiny, probably won't even show in a few weeks) but worthy because Cyd thinks it could lead to Stroman's demise...


Saturday, May 10, 2008

Lost Blog - Remember Mother's Day??

yesterday marked a day of incredible amounts of self-induced stress. i was finishing up a project and was blind to everything but the task at hand. blind to my son, 15 months, climbing onto our bed and sliding off on his belly. (okay, not blind, but a good enough typist to watch his death defying feats and continue to work.)



at one point, i almost gave up - the kids had found my last nerve and were jumping like it would save my soul. at just that moment, my husband rode up on his white steed and swept the kids out of the house for 3 hours! and that helped me finish my work. it did not enable me to visit here, here, or here. no matter what the blog traffic trackers say.



drew took the kids to the park...where i can just imagine cydney was everywhere (cyd: "first, i did the climbing thing. then i went on the ropes all the way to the top and then i went down the slide. ober and ober. and there were some boys that dad said not to play with. so i didn't.) and stroman was cautiously approaching the swing, a device that makes him cackle (think my cackle, only cuter) with sheer delight.



i was about to wrap up the work & realized it was 6. NO DINNER PLANNED. crap. he saved me & i didn't even manage to defrost? crap. so i continued to work.



HERE'S THE DREAMY PART:



cyd walks in from the park and comes to me holding a take & bake pizza. "Happy Mother's Day, Mommmma. We got you pizza!" Solid. They took care of dinner.



"I've got wine!" He's holding several bottles of one of my favorite brands. Lovely. Just what I need.



"Stroman," says my hubby. "Bring momma her bag."



Little comes to me with a terribly small black bag. "MaMa," he shoves the bag at me, kinda sideways, as if he wants to pour out the contents.

I dig. A little dismayed.

Inside, a beautiful ring - early Mother's Day gift! What? OUTSTANDING! I had mentioned, in passing, that I really enjoy beautiful jewelry, but hadn't ever purchased for myself. AND HUSBAND WAS LISTENING!!!

A picture of it? Not now. I'm going to tell you what I was mulling over in my busy head right before I heard the garage door open.

really, 3 hours at the park? as i continued to type, i wondered what could have happened? did they run into friends? was there an accident? did someone crack a skull & drew just wasn't ready to break it to me?

nope - he was taking care of me. just like he always does.

note to self : wash that lovely man some socks.