Minus three Orphans

The religious observance that God the Father considers pure and faultless is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being contaminated by the world.  James 1:27


This very week, as only Providence Himself could plan it, three of my friends are boarding planes with their respective hubbies and biological children to cross the ocean and each rescue an orphan.  To bring him or her back with them and adopt them into their family and raise them to adulthood.  What a picture of God's love, what a testimony of His grace.


There's about a bazillion widows and orphans in this world.  Lonely, afraid, maybe even desperate... needing love and help and security. That you and I can give.  Maybe we're not all "called" to bring them all to our house.  Maybe it seems like too gargantuan a task.  Maybe it is....all by ourselves.  But if we all just follow His command, to care for them in some way, maybe we can get the job done.


Even if we can't get to all of them, this week there will be three fewer orphans in the world.  Shelley, Michelle, and Jess, I'm praying for you and yours.  And, readers, I'm asking you to pray for them, too.


And if you want more info on how you can give or pray...or maybe even rescue one yourself, contact me and I'll get you started.  Thanks.

Happy Birthday, Jonathan

Two years ago today, my world changed.  The whole world changed, actually.  Because my grandson arrived.


Jonathan Miller Alligood, Jr.


In just two years, he has given us a lifetime of laughs and cheer, a universe full of hugs and kisses, and enough hope and promise to fill the whole world.  That's what babies do to us all. That's why we applaud their arrival, marvel at their uniqueness, and lay down our lives to make theirs better. They give us a glimpse of God's greatness, His love, and our hope in Him.


Dear Jonathan, I know you've inherited a world where peace is not ubiquitous, a country where selfish agendas set the pace, and an extended family that is far from perfect.  But I pray that you will be able to change all that, even if only a little bit.  I pray that you will be so aware that the foundation of love you've been set on is sure and strong that you'll have what it takes to bring about transformation in the lives around you.  If I could, my precious little fella, I would fix it all for you. I'd make everything perfect for you to enjoy.


  I'd love to give you


a world where differences in cultures and nationalities are celebrated, not persecuted
a world that listens to others' viewpoints respectfully, even  if without agreement
a world that rewards hard work instead of clever ways to beat the system
a world that is generous and compassionate to those who deserve it....as well as to those who don't
a world where people think before they speak or post or email...and then act wisely on those thoughts
a world where initiative is applauded instead of regulated
a world where Moms and Dads are more interested in making things better for their kids than grasping for that elusive gold ring
a world where the helpless are helped and the capable act with competence
a world where there is trust....because it's been earned
a world where broken relationships get fixed instead of discarded
a world where the "rights" of some people don't trample on those of others
a world where people are happy and have fun together
a world where all the chocolate and gummy bears we want won't make us sick
a world where Truth is constant and Love reigns supreme


Dear little Jonathan, until HE returns and makes all things new, we will only have fragments of that kind of world.  One day there will be no more cancer, no more divorce, no more hurtful words, no prejudicial opinions, no more hate, no more orphans, no  more death, no more selfishness or laziness or greed.


I can't change the whole world, dear Jonathan.  And, as much as I'd like to believe you can, the truth is, you can't either.


But until HE comes to change it all forever, I'll do everything in my power to make YOUR world as perfect as perfect can be.  As only a grandmother can.


Happy Birthday, Jonathan. I'm so glad you were born.  Suzie loves you.  Forever.

 Then I saw “a new heaven and a new earth,” for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea.  I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”

 He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”
 He said to me: “It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To the thirsty I will give water without cost from the spring of the water of life.  Those who are victorious will inherit all this, and I will be their God and they will be my children
Revelation 21:1-7

To the Granddaddy at the pool

One of the privileges of my summers is getting to assist the venerable Miss Sandy with swimming lessons at Shamrock pool. Now, full disclosure, I am only a sub for when one of my kids (bonafide instructors) cannot be there.  I am merely there for crowd control and the last stop before drowning but Miss Sandy knows I love "helping" her and she good-naturedly looks waaaaaaaay down the bench and calls me in from time to time.  Betsy is the last in our  line of Chambers swim teachers.  I don't know what I'll do when she graduates from this.  Maybe Miss Sandy will still need someone to smile and cheer and adjust goggles........


Anyhow, sometimes I go with my kids even when I'm not teaching subbing in, just to watch them teach and to see all the adorable  kids and their Mommies.  Remember, Shamrock Pool is my happy place - anytime I can be there is a great day!  So, the other evening I was there to watch.  After noting to myself that, yes, my children are surely the cutest and most wonderful swim instructors ever, I moved on to observing the parents. 


That's when I saw the Granddad.


He was so stinkin proud and it showed.  I declare, I think that if there were buttons on his swim shirt, they would've popped right off.  I grinned to myself and thought that perhaps this is a bit of overkill, even for a grandparent.  I mean, seriously, this was just the Moms and Tots class - the kids were no more displaying any athletic prowess than when they get pushed in the grocery cart at Publix.  I was able to figure out which pair his adoration was directed towards and couldn't for the life of me figure out why he was so proud.  The little fella wasn't even cooperating with his mommy!!!


Then my grandmother gene surfaced.  Then I understood.


He wasn't simply proud of his grandson's ability to be dunked repeatedly by the mother - this Papa was busting his buttons over his own daughter. Applauding the little fella was more of a smokescreen for the pride over the Mommy. He wasn't there by the pool to supervise swim instruction - he was there to watch his little girl - though as grown as grown could be - do her thing.  My heart so beat with his for a moment that I thought I'd had a transplant.  I got it.  I knew just what he was feeling.  His daughter was indeed doing a good job with that wiggly little boy and he sat right by the pool's edge to admire her with delight.  There was no mistaking it for me - the cheers for that Mommy were just disguised to look like they were meant for her son.


I had to look away and take several deep drinks of my Sodapalooza Diet Dr Pepper to wash away the lump in my throat.  I knew just what he was feeling.  That part of grandparenting that nobody explained.  At least not to me, anyways.  So, if you are yet to enter this stage of blessed bliss, allow me to share a nugget or two....


First of all, you'll not be old enough to be a grandparent.  Neither was I.  Probably never will be.  So it just might take you by surprise that your own offspring - who is barely old enough to carry a lunch box and board the bus, mind you - will be in charge of keeping a human alive.  Gulp.  Scary thought indeed.


But you'll adjust to that by deciding which grandmother title doesn't age you and debate about having liposuction and eyelid lifts just so everybody else can affirm what you already know - that you're not old enough to do this.  Then you can start looking forward to another little bundle to adore....and hope against all odds that he/she will adore you right back.  You stockpile as many ideas as possible to insure that will happen, including providing junk food and never having to be the bad guy.  Yeah, this is gonna be OK!!!


Then it comes.  The flood of grandparent love. They arrive and you hold them and they look you right in the eye.  Surely they are the cutest and most clever creatures ever to inhabit Planet Earth but that doesn't explain the width and depth of the emotions you feel.


Because there's something more.


At least for me, anyways.  Seeing my own child be a Mommy - and do such a cotton-pickin spectacular job at it - overwhelms me with a tidal wave of love and pride that I'd never expected.  It's not just the grandkids...it's my kid. I will always and forever be a Mom.  And experiencing joy at who my children are is timeless.  So is wanting to help them.  To encourage and cheer.  To give them a break (even from the job they love the most!).  To notice their successes (cuz let's face it - probably nobody else will!) and to empathize with their not-quite successes.  And to share their triumphs unabashedly because a grandparent is afforded grace and patience which aren't as easily extended to just plain parents.


I wanted to pull up a beach chair beside that G-Dad and cheer with him.  I wanted him to know I understood - and agreed with - his pride. 


And then I would've shown him my pictures.  Of all my trophies.  Swim lessons ended so I didn't get the chance.  But I know he'd have to agree - I have a right to feel blessed.

Emotional whiplash

Emotional whiplash.  Or parenting schizophrenia.  Those are the terms I use to describe a condition that the medical community may not recognize but one that is quite well known to all moms.


In fact, I was having a couple of conversations with some of my fav swim team Moms and this was our topic.  One of them grinned and said "you should blog about this."


Uh, sure thing.  I can talk about the malady all day long but I have no idea how to prevent it, treat it, or cure it.  It's completely impossible, I am sure.


You're reading this smiling cause you know exactly what I'm talking about.  The ups and downs of responding to the different needs of  your kids simultaneously.  As in one just broke his personal record for the 25 freestyle race and you are celebrating with him.  Before you can unwrap yourself from that chlorine-soaked embrace, you notice one other offspring in a puddle of tears from a DQ on his butterfly stroke. Or one daughter got elected Prom Queen...hooray!!...and the other one got rejected from the college of her heart's desire.  And so you jerk yourself from your happy place to the one of consolation and empathy.  Or the other way around....just depends on which emotional need surfaces first.


Emotional whiplash. 


Sometimes the onset of parenting schizophrenia has been so acute that I forget which emotion I am supposed to be responding to and consequently administer the wrong antidote.  Sympathy instead of cheer.  Or, worse, gladness instead of condolences.  Wow, talk about the "cure" being worse than the "disease"!!


As I type this, I'm smiling.  Grinning, actually.  Just like my swim Mom friends and I did when we chatted about it.  Not smirking at the affliction, mind you.  And certainly not at the repercussions of wrongly-administered doses.  But at the privilege it is to bear this condition.  The honor of getting to be the one to diagnose the emotional needs and then to apply the appropriate salve.


My soul doesn't feel so handicapped after all.  I realize I am downright blessed.  No matter how much it may appear that I have a personality disorder!!

To the single Dads

I thought about this post all day.  And just couldn't get it to type itself.  The words wouldn't flow.  The thoughts were jumbled.  I wanted to write a tribute for Father's Day.  About my own precious Daddy and about the magnificent Daddy to my four kids.


But all I could think about were some fellas who were observing this day as a single dad.  And I knew no Mom was there to prepare them a special dessert or to see that cards were made or gifts were purchased.  And I cried and cried and cried for them.


I know men don't get all hyped up about holidays and I know they probably don't see this day the way Moms see their counterpart celebration in May.  But I hurt for them anyway.  'Specially because the fellas I have on my mind didn't choose to be single.


And then I cried for their kids.  I wondered if their hearts hurt because they realized Daddy was supposed to be celebrated today and they didn't know how to pull that off. 


It's not that I didn't have these hurts on Mother's Day when I thought about my girl friends in this same plight.  It's just that it seems to me that men don't get the same sympathy. And I'll bet they hurt and feel alone and defeated, too.


I don't have anything encouraging to offer.  No words of counsel.  I just needed to acknowledge these men somehow.  Even in such a small way, I hope they find some comfort and some courage in the fact that somebody notices.  Actually Somebody way more important than this blog.


He sees.  He cares.  He sustains.  He will not forsake.


Happy Father's Day to every single man who loves his children.  Thank you.  To all of you.