Season of Miracles

Last night my Mother-in-law, Father-in-law, My Husband and I, as well as our son, went to see the Christmas light show in Cambridge Ohio, at the court.

Our son giggled with glee and pointed to the lights as he kicked his legs and bobbed his head. “Look Dat!” He said and pointed every time someone passed us on the sidewalk.

Tears began streaming down his face. It could have been just because he was cold however, he was dressed warmly. I began to wonder if he felt the same way I did two years previously when he was just a seed my tummy.

My boyfriend and I were sitting there in church at the Christmas mass and silent night was being sung. I started to cry as I thought about my Christmas miracle stirring inside of me. I finally got it! The Christmas story is everyone’s story.

I looked at my boyfriend. I felt what I believed was the first flutter of life moving inside of me. I looked at him and said, “I know It’s a boy and we will call him Noah.” I was pregnant and unmarried at the time. People judged me because of this. They didn’t know my boyfriend and I, who later became my Husband. Personally I didn’t care. This was our Christmas miracle

As Noah cried, the memories came back. I remembered that night in church. I cried because our Child was a promise. The promise of a Christmas miracle. Two Christmas before that, we were trying to grapple with the news that I would never have a child. Yet here he is. He must have felt what I felt. Joy and beauty that he was a miracle. My son changed our lives.

I felt what Mary must have felt all those years ago. Happiness that God had blessed her with a beautiful baby boy. She also felt sadness because of those that judged her, because she was an unwed mother.

Noah understands this is the season of miracles. It was also this season of miracles that brought my husband and I together. It was at a Christmas time we
really connected. It was because of Christmas our son is here today.

The Christmas story is everyone’s story. With great pain is great joy. Without pain, there would be no hope. Happiness would cease to exist.

This is the season of miracles. Yours is right around the corner. Never give up hope.

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My Musical Life

This week was a good week for my Son and Family. It brought back many memories.

My Dad is a Music Director at a local Catholic Church. They have a chicken dinner every year to raise money for the parish. My Dad plays the organ for people who are coming to see the church. After I got out of work, my Mother and I took my Son up to the church so he could listen to Grandpa play the organ.

My Son can never sit still very long. I had him in a sling as I walked up and down the aisle. He got excited as we bounced and walked, listening to the music. He began clapping his hands.

I was then reminded what an impact music has had on my life. My parents first met at church. My Mother was filling in for the choir director, my Dad for the organist. My Mother was very weak because she had just had surgery on her appendix.  She needed help getting up to direct the choir because she had stitches in her side. My Dad was the person that helped her. To make a long story a little bit shorter, here is the kicker… they have been together ever since. If it was not for music I would not be here.

My parents continued this tradition for quite some time. When I was small, probably even younger than my Son… my Mother would place my car seat on the organ or piano during choir practice. Because of this I had a great appreciation and love of music. When I was my Sons age I remember wanting to be like my Daddy. I in my diaper, complete with a tie around my neck… sat on the piano bench at home. Just like Daddy, I played the piano. Matching my voice to the tone of the note as I played.

Then when I was two, I knew the instrument of my choice was going to be the violin. I loved it! My arm would not reach around the neck of the violin so I had to wait until it did. The music store that my mother taught at did not have a size small enough for a two-year old. So finally when I was three. I got to play the instrument I always dreamed of. The violin.

I continued to have a love of music and throughout my Youth I played many musical instruments. Violin, Piano, Clarinet, saxophone, Trumpet, and my latest endeavor, the ukulele. I hope it is a tradition I can pass along to my son. A love of music.

If it was not for music, my son would not be here today. It was love of music that brought my husband and I together. I met my husband at work. One of the first times we hung out, we were at a party one of our coworkers had. There we were. He was playing Guitar and singing and I was singing the harmony.

On another Date, we were at a bar in Wellington, Ohio that had a piano. We were playing the piano at the bar and taking requests to play classic rock songs.

Our Son loves it when Daddy plays Guitar. He loves strumming the strings of his guitar and could since he was about five months old. Our Son is nearly 11 months old now.

We took our Son to two Jim Gill Concerts this week. One in Brunswick, Ohio and one in Valley City, Ohio. For those of you who do not know who Jim Gill is, He is a very talented musician with a good sense of humor. He has a musical life too. He writes his own music and weaves beautiful stories into his music. He is a local musician here in the Ohio area.

The first concert we arrived there early. We got the opportunity to talk to this very humble musician. He even allowed my husband to try out his guitar. Noah loved the music. He started clapping and jumping up and down and then got fussy the last part of the concert.

Noah got fussy at the second concert when he heard Jim play “Yesterday” by the Beatles.  It is this song that Daddy plays for him. Daddy’s at work right now and Noah starts screaming “Dada!” At least Grammie and Grampy got to go!

Here I am reminded that music without music I would not be here. My husband and I probably would not be married, and our Son would never have been born. I hope we can continue the tradition of sharing music and enjoying it in our family.

Freedom Is Not Free

My Son wildly claps his hands and says “Boom.. boom!” and he owhhs… and ahhhs… as we watch the fireworks from the balcony of our one bedroom apartment. Here I am reminded that freedom is not free and we are not done fighting for it yet.

How can you be free when your husband and you have to work two jobs each, and you are barely scraping by? How is this freedom when I’m lucky if I see my husband and our Son is lucky if he sees his father one day a week! No this is not freedom. This is prison. Freedom isn’t free. No not at all.

I hope someday that the world will be freed from all of this oppression. That people will love each other enough to work together to fix the global system that is broken and corrupt. People will stop using money and use their skills and barter. To become self-sufficient.  Rely on a system where we help each other instead of a system built on currency and numbers that are just punched in computers.

I hope someday I will be able to enjoy time with my family. That I am able to relax and I can live my life as I choose. That I can be free.

Never has there been a greater need for freedom. For a new beginning. For a chance to break the system, and build a new system that worked for thousands of years, before corrupt governments came and changed it. No Freedom isn’t free. We are not free yet. I hope I am able to be there when the system collapses and we can rebuild something based on love.

My Son says “oowhh…Ahhhh…” I look at him and say “Yes, we still have a long way to go… we still have a long way to go.”

The Best Birthday

I celebrated my Birthday on July second. My Mom found some old pictures of me, blowing out candles on my birthday cake. The funny thing about being a Mother is, even the money that you get for your birthday, goes to your child. I was reminded of how many things my Mother went without, because she would rather my brother and I have those things. Here it is July second. It is my birthday. I have holes in my shoes, clothes that never fit right. The money I get for my Birthday goes to my Sons food and clothes. I even had some extra to get him a new book. Here I am dressed like a bag lady. Because I refuse to let my child have anything less than what I had growing up. Because yes, on my Birthday, my Son deserves the very best. All those years I never realized how much my Parents struggled. They did without too. I don’t want Noah to worry. Worry that maybe next month we will have to move because our rent went up again. That we can barely afford to live in this one bedroom apartment. So on my Birthday, I am thankful for my Mother and Father. For always giving me the best Birthday possible. I will do the same for my Son.

The Birth of a Father

   Becoming a Father is a series of miraculous events. The father expectantly waits for the arrival of a child. Expectantly means watchfully waiting. Fathers are watchfully waiting from the very moment that baby is conceived. They are watching creation take place right before their eyes. Fathers are waiting for life to happen. Then it does. Out of love, life is born. This is one of the most important events in a mans life.

The Father becomes expectant again. He is watchfully waiting. He is watching his child grow, waiting for them to take their first step, waiting for their first birthday, graduate high school, and then college. Then they meet someone. Someone they want to spend the rest of their life with. They begin waiting for the marriage of their daughter.

My Father who I have always called Dad is singing a beautiful song “Borning Cry.” He sang it right before he came to walk me down the aisle. I hear him cry as he sings the last line “to see your life unfold.” I start to cry too. This was the same song he sang at my Baptism. The day I was born to the Father in heaven. The doors open and My Father and I walk into the sanctuary. He gives me to my Husband.

My Husband is expectantly waiting too. As I am standing at the Alter, my little son is kicking the inside of my stomach wildly. I am six moths pregnant now, He can probably feel how nervous I am. As we say our vows, my Husband starts to tear up. Then we are made Husband and wife. We are made a family.

At the reception my Father and I dance. I notice my father is starting to look older, he now has gray hair. I had never noticed it before. Probably because he is my Dad. When we are younger we think our Dads will always be here. So we never see they are ageing. Then I am scared. I  don’t want to ever have to live without him. He is one of the first people who ever held me. One of the first people that loved me. I love him. I am thankful my Dad is still here. That he is able to share this special moment with me.

A few months later, My Husband and My Father are expectantly waiting. My Husband, the birth of His First Child. My Father, the birth of his First Grandchild. He was two weeks overdue, so I was induced. After 77 and 1/2  hours of labor, his head started to crown. My Husband started to shout excitedly “He has a full head of hair! Oh my God this is so cool! Push…!! Pushpushpush!” My Dad and My Father-In-Law were listening to all of this happen, downstairs from a cell phone that was on next to me on a bedside table. After a half hour of pushing He was born.

Expectantness begins again. This time it is my Husband. He is watchfully waiting for his son to grow up.

Life is a series of events where Fathers are Expectant. They watchfully wait, for the culmination of an event to happen. They reinvent themselves, and are born all over again.

I thank My Dad and My Husband for always being Expectant Fathers, and to all other Fathers that are Expectantly waiting.

A Wise Man

   A wise man once told me to fight like hell, follow your dreams, and never give up. That wise man was my Grandfather. I miss him very much. He always gave me good advice. Some of that advice I didn’t understand tell I was much older.

Things My Grandfather Told Me

1. Never Go to Bed or Leave Angry-
My Grandfather got into an argument with his only son. That was the last time he saw him. The next time he saw his Son he was in a coffin.
My Mother and I got into a fight before she left for work. She was in a nearly fatal accident. I am glad she was ok so I could tell her how much I loved her, and that I was sorry.

2. Do What Makes You Happy-
I was a teenager that was easily influenced by others around me. My Grandfather told me I needed to do what made me happy. Not what made everyone else happy.
My Grandfather did what everyone else told him. He went to college. He failed miserably. Then he did what he really loved even though his parents told him he would always be a cripple. (He had a bad hand.) He built race cars and built and restored airplanes. He even restored Wacos for the Smithsonian!
Here I am, a few years later. I am reading a great book. I always loved to read and write. I have regrets that I did not pursue a career in writing. I did not pursue my dream because everyone told me it would never make me money. Well you know what? What I am doing right now, is not making me a great deal of money anyways!

3. There is Only One Person for Everyone. Soulmates Do Exist.
  My Grandfather said my Grandmother was his one and only soul mate. After she died, he tried dating many other women. He was even married a second time. (It didn’t last) He truly believed she was the only women ment for him. He said with the other women it was just never the same. My Grandfather told me he knew there was a soulmate waiting out there for me too.
I thought he was crazy. Then I met my Husband. I realized my Grandfather wasn’t so crazy after all. My Husband is my one and only true Soulmate.

4. When you accomplish all you set out to do, you no longer have fear. You make peace. And if you die, you are ok with that.
I’m still working on this one!

What inspiring advice did your Grandparents give you? How has it changed your life?

 

Laughs, Giggles and Playtime!

My husband was getting ready to leave for work tonight. My son looks at him and pulls at his scrub top, and he begins to giggle and squeal. I don’t think he wants Daddy to leave. I don’t either.

I look at my Husband. This man who works many sixteen hour days. A man I love and have great respect and tenderness for. I wish he would be able to work less and spend more time with us. He is doing what he can to provide for his family. It is also a reminder of why I must write.
He encourages me, and reads everything I write. My Husband is my biggest fan. (I call him my editor, because he reads over my shoulder and makes me aware of what needs to be revised.) I hope someday I will be able to make enough money from one of my books. Enough so we can have more laughing, giggling, and more playtime as a family. I write out of love.

Rebirth

  When I look at my son, I see such promise and hope. I understand why Jesus said we should all be like children.

My son trusts others completely. He has not learned what it’s like for someone to break his trust. He loves others with every fiber of his being. He has not learned what it is like for someone to crush his heart and soul. He lives fearlessly. He is learning to walk. He sometimes falls down. He always gets back up like nothing happened and continues to laugh and smile as he pulls himself up, and he tries again, and again.

In my eyes he is perfect. He is a spitting image of the creator. Uninhibited. Un-fearful. He is love.

He reminds me of what is wrong with the world. We forget to be children. We forget to love with a complete love. To be completely uninhibited. To get back up if we fail. If life knocks us on our ass, not to give up. Try… and then, try again. If more people saw the world through the eyes of a child, there would be no war. Just love and hope. That is the secret of life.

I look at my sweet baby boy, as I stroke his hair and he smiles. He is the reason I will never give up. He is the reason I am reminded to see the world through the eyes of a child. He gives me life. I am made complete and I am reborn through the eyes of a child. He smiles in his sleep. I kiss his forehead and tell him what a miracle he is. That he was the one that gave birth to me.

“Not Enough Time”

   Im a Mother. I still have a great capacity love. I have so much to give. You deny me the only simple pleasure life has. The whole reason for marriage. The reason to share great intimacy and compassion with another human being. The very intimacy and compassion that creates life itself. Somewhere you forgot to love me. You ignore me and yet, you deny my feelings. These feeling run deep. Yet you dont take the time to dare understand them. You turn away. Excuses are all I hear. “Not enough time… Not enough time….” Make time for your stupid movies, forget your life your family. Sacrifice your life for your work. A dead end job. I offer help. You refuse. More excuses. “Not enough time… Not enough time.” Your child is growing up so fast. I ask myself, “Why? Why?” Where did the ambition go? Where is the drive? You keep loosing yourself a little all the time. You are not the man I knew. Driven no longer by dreams but not enough time. Ten minutes, thats all it takes. But you shouldn’t care about time. ‘Cause time is very fleeting… we are dying all the a little all the time.

Dedicated to a friend who lost everything. I hope you find love and the closure you seek.♥

The Calling

We are all called to do things in life. Some people are called to be priests or missionaries. I was called to be a Nursing Assistant. I was reminded today, of all the reasons why became one.

As I help these people with their daily care, they tell me of their interests. They also reflect upon life and tell me stories of their own. I am reminded that these people were once young and able bodied, just like me. They had the same hopes and dreams as I have now. I laugh and I cry with them. I am a part of their family, and they… a part of mine. They have shared their knowledge with me. That to me, is more valuable than a goldmine.
I don’t do it for the money. I am working for peanuts. My payment is the plethora of knowledge, the elder give me. The amazing stories that they share. They are sharing part of their life with me. I am sharing a part of myself with them.

I am a Nursing Assistaint because the human soul is beautiful and resilient. I do it because I am human. I love and I feel.