gifts from a generous Hand

My youngest son just completed his course work for a doctorate in Biology.My second son is getting married to a lovely girl, who adores him,in two weeks.My heart swells with appreciation for their lives and accomplishments.I have written before about the many achievements of my other son and daughter.

The most tears, however, were shed when my second son received a wedding card addressed to me.It was from my dearest friend and former neighbor,Hildegarde.In the card she congratulated both sons and then told the story of the Easter when my youngest was a toddler.She invited all four of my children over to look for nests of eggs.Each had their own to find...I'll let her tell the rest.."I remember the Easter that you all four came over to my house,dressed so pretty.You,Jessica and Michael found your Easter nest but not Sean.He was so little at the time.His lips began to quiver ,he was so close to tears.But you three gently stood in the way and then pushed him towards his nest.It was a long time ago."

This is who they were,my children,and this is who they still are.And I can't thank God enough for the gift of them.

the pagoda in the valley

The humble monk walks slowly up the cinder path to the solitude of the towering pagoda.He is alone and sombre.He has much to reflect on and his hope is that the sacred relics in the place he is seeking will speak to the quiet place in his heart where peace can be found.He can hear the rushing stream,see the sun bathing the snowy mountain tops a pale pink and he rejoices in the things with which he is gifted by his senses.Already his spirit is quieting.

This painting that enchants me so, was created by my granddaughter in her second grade class.It won first place and was displayed in an art center in Dawsonville this Spring.Finally on Mother's Day, I got to see it and in a moment I will never forget,it was given to me by a small,delicate hand as a special gift.So many entities in the picture lure me, the color of the mountains,the blue, curving stream, the simple bridge,the mottled blue sky and finally the sacred space,the pagoda.

Dancing with the memory of this treasured gift is another one. After Frisbee,Chinese food, gifts and cards,she was in the middle of the room and turned and came towards me.She is slight, freckled with blonde curly hair, and now wears studious, adorable glasses that perch on her nose.She keeps a journal and paints.As she approached,in her eyes was such love;she held me there with that love as I gazed at her in deep connection.We hugged for no reason other than to celebrate we two.

The Stairway of Heaven

Some connections take awhile to come together,at least for me.These two events happened over twenty-five years apart and when the first popped up the other day,unexamined for years,it cleaved to the second and said,"See what you can make out of this."

When my nine year old grandson Riley was about four ,he came to his Dad with a serious look on his face.This boy is a red-head,cute as a button,with a sweetness about him that I can't describe without tearing up. Anyway, he said to my son,"Dad,when I left the other place,I was told that I had to go down the steps by myself,to come into Mommy and come to Earth.No one else could come with me,God said." My son asked him if he was afraid,he said,"No,I was O.K."

It was shortly after that that I found this picture on line.Nowhere,have I ever heard of this experience being taught or discussed.My son had to call me right away the day it happened and we both decided that it sounded like an eyewitness account,a memory.Then the other night, this happening came to mind.

My youngest son was about the same age as Riley in 1981;we were visiting relatives in Washington D.C.and had gone into the Shrine of the Immaculate Conception.All of us were stunned at the mosaic behind the grand altar.It is mostly in red and depicts a fierce,ferocious face of Christ.My son was not in Sunday School and had no exposure to Christian art but he said,very matter-of-factly ,"That is not Jesus".
That was it,but said with such authority.I pondered his certainty then.

I asked Riley about this the other day and he has forgotten it.I wonder how many other accounts there might be that we aren't privy to, because we don't know to ask.

the perfect gift

My wonderful youngest son is about to get his doctorate in biology and the way this all worked out just astounds me.A small thing can make such a difference.

When he was 6 years old, my mother mailed his Christmas present to us in Georgia.It was a large Golden book about dinosaurs that had wonderful colored pictures and script that told everything you would ever want to know about those incredible creatures.He just sat there ,enchanted to think that they once walked on the earth.He was bitten by the nature bug and wanted to know more.

In 1985,he and I went to Maggy Valley,N.C. for a few days when he was 8 years old and there found a small zoo that had a book store.As we wandered around,I picked up a nature guide on reptiles and amphibians that cost 13 dollars.I rarely spent money back then but I so wanted for him to have it.I walked around the store thinking long and hard on the expense and finally bought it.He was immediately hooked on finding all the species in the book.He still has that book, held together with duct tape;it has been used more than any other book in the history of literature.

How wonderful to begin to know your life's work at a young age and have the focus,determination and intelligence to pursue it.

When we were kids,my sister and I used to laugh at my mother's gifts. Mea culpa.I recall the year when I was 15 that I got a red wallet with my name and a large ruby(not real) on the outside.Yuck.One year my sister burst into tears when she got a coat for Christmas instead of a much wanted watch,.Then there were the brown slippers shaped like bear's claws.Oh, my.
Ingrates,both of us.

I still have his dinosaur book and wish that my mother could be at his graduation to see what she began with her wonderful gift.Thanks,Mom.