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.

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.

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.

“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.♥