Friday, February 17, 2017
Friday, February 10, 2017
I thought of the book's title when Nora remembered my shell basket yesterday and ran to pull it from under my bed. She loves to sort the shells and is most fond of the tiniest shells. We spent a long time handling the shells and talking about how beautiful each one is. She knows the names of a few. Later, she will learn more. For now, it is enough to delight in them, to touch them, and pretend. She is a little shell seeker.
Our sons loved shells and liked to keep them. Jeremy had quite a collection so many of these are his. Many of them came from the beaches on Sanibel Island, Florida, where our family spent time in 1980. The tulip shells came from a flat boat journey out to the mud flats.All of our sons talk about that trip and the fun they had being shell seekers. There are many years between their shell hunting and Nora's discovery of the same shells. The family story is still being written. I am grateful for the seeking and the finding and the keeping, of shells, and of story.
Friday, February 3, 2017
Thursday, January 26, 2017
Nora has played with wooden toys once loved by her Daddy but even though she had seen this doll, only a few days ago did she begin to play with it and "mother" it. She has rocked the baby to sleep in her wicker rocking chair, wrapped her in a blanket and carried her around. This doll was mine when I was a little girl, and although her face and hands and feet are well preserved, her cloth body is worn and stuffing is showing. This baby is like the skin horse in the Velveteen Rabbit book, she is "real"- she has been well loved, a good thing when you are 70 years old!
I was older than Nora when I got this doll, 7 yearrs old. My best friend and I were in second grade. We played after school, had sleepovers, dressed her kitten, and talked our mothers into getting us matching dolls. Mignon got hers first and named hers Wendolyn, called Wendy. I named this one Gwendolyn, called Gwen. We played with the dolls and treasured them. We also loved being friends, and still are to this day! I do not know if Mignon still has her doll, but this one continues to delight a little girl.
I will do my best to repair the cloth tears and keep her stuffing in because Nora asked me to fix her!
Friday, January 20, 2017
Today, January 20, 2017 is a day with a heart full of gratitude for me.
Forty-nine years ago, I almost died due to a massive postpartum hemorrhage. My newborn son was 1 week old. I was at home with him and my mother, who had come to help after his birth. My husband, Joe, was at work in San Antonio. As a registered nurse, I recognized the severity immediately. I called the weekend answering service for my doctor, and I called my husband to come home as soon as he could. I should have called an ambulance. There was a lack of accurate information understood by the on-call physician, who probably thought I was overreacting, and Joe had to drive through flooded streets to get home. By the time he got there and scooped me up into the back seat of our car, I was not able to talk anymore I remember praying - for me, for Joe, for our baby son. I was not aware of the fact that since the Nix Memorial Hospital building on the river in downtown San Antonio, had no wheel chair or stretcher where he was able to park, he carried me to the elevator and up to the floor where I was admitted. By the time I was evaluated, I could hear the nurses saying things like "blood pressure dropping" and "can't find a pulse" and could not speak to tell them not to give up. It is absolutely true that a person who cannot respond hears.
By that time my own doctor had received the emergency message and arrived. He personally helped to get blood started and pumped it in manually. I remember the cold rushing up my arm. As soon as I was stabilized, I was taken to the O.R. to do what was necessary to stop the hemorrhage. I was hospitalized for a week. I missed my baby. I worried about him and my sweet mom, suddenly thrust from the role of proud Nana holding her her first grandson to fill in full time for me. Joe tried to work and take care of all of us.
I do not tell the story often, but today, one week after Sean's 49th birthday, I am flooded with thanksgiving for those 49 years of his life, and for those 49 years God-given to me. Joe is by my side. We have two more sons. We have six precious grandchildren. I have been blessed with a full life, friends, and family. I look at the photo above, taken on the first evening of 2017, and can only say thank you.