2017 - Time for Revival

The New Year, 2017, has begun with a bang.  One of the things this year offers is the chance for revival. 

It is time to revive passions, interests and dreams.  It is time to reinvigorate creative desires and abilities.  It is time to restore a passion for living, whether I am choosing to live day to day, week to week or month to month. It is time to resurrect saved manuals, books and articles full of guidance and advice.  It is time to re-establish daily rituals/routines so life can move along smoother.  It is time to put back into place boundaries in relationships, work, time management and expectations, of self and others.  It is time to energize promises I want to keep. 

Among the things to restore is this space.  I began sharing after I had seen others I respected and admired reaching out via the internet to share their lives.    Just when I could (or should) have been sharing more about the challenges of parenting following the addition of two children to our home, priorities got jumbled due to the increased demands of working with social workers and agencies, supporting the parents, the legalities and process of adoption, working to support a larger family and caring for two very active demanding toddlers and a teenager faced with all the decisions, challenges and growth of attending high school.    What spare time I did find I used to post a few thoughts on another blog, “Bridge of Skills” or promote my book by the same name. 

The beginning of a new year fell right behind moving from one home and city to another.  Among the comments I have heard from people in our former area and people I am meeting in our new living area is that they wish they knew me better, and as they learn more about me, the question of whether I have ever considered sharing my experiences and inspiration with others.  The answer is yes, I have, and it is time to do it again.   

So, for those who have known me before, and allowed me to share with you in the past, I ask you to forgive my absence and hope you will again look forward to reading the thoughts of someone who is just like you.  For those who are new, I hope you will feel love, encouragement and value as we journey through life together.   

Makeup Mess or War Paint

I have said being a grandmother is never boring, especially if you have a 2 year old whirlwind that spends most nights at grandma's house while his mother works the night shift. This particular whirlwind, Devan, helped grandma start her day with a laugh and a reminder of the difference a few seconds can make in life.
I was just finishing up with my blog post when he woke up. He was kind enough to turn on my light for me, and sat down next to me on the bed to see what I was doing. I handed him my granddaughters "Little Foot" dinosaur to play with. I saw him bend over and open one of the drawefs in the nightstand on that side of the bed, but told him to not touch, and didn't think he had. I laughed at him when he picked up the big makeup brush and started tickling the nose and tummy of the stuffed animal he held. I don't recall hearing him unzip my makeup bag, but the next thing I knew I heard him say cute, and he handed me my open lipstick. I took it from him, put the lid on, and asked him where the bag was and told him not to play in it. He then handed me the bag and the open brush to my mascara. I took it from him without even looking at him and started picking up the rest of the makeup he dumped on the bed as he handed me the bag. He handed me the compact and mirror and said "Cutte, Mandma, Cute." When I looked at the mirror to see cute I saw a two year old face covered with streaks of lipstick and mascara, with hands to match. It was one of those moments when you don't know whether to start scolding about how bad he was, or to laugh at how silly he looked, or to cry because you have a horrible mess to clean up, or worry about what his mother is going to do or say if she sees him like this. Because I had just been writing about the calling of being a grandmother I chose to laugh first. He really was a sight. After reclaiming all my makeup and making him sit still on the bed for a minute, I tried to take a picture of him before we tried to clean him up. All six sets of batteries I had recently put in the camera case were dead. (Another of my grandsons frequently takes batteries out of other people's equipment, uses them until they are dead, and then puts them back in the original equipment. He thinks he is being smart and the other person will think they left something on or forgot when they last replaced the batteries.) So we couldn't get a picture even though we tried. So we got up and I took him into the bathroom to try and clean him up. Now we learned how lasting my all day lipstick was. Regular bar soap removed the mascara, but not the lipstick. Dishwasher detergent didn't make a difference, and neither did household cleaner. Since we couldn't remove anything, we decided to eat some breakfast while we waited for his mother to return to see if she had any suggestions. After breakfast, since he looked like an indian with war paint anyway, we pretended we were going on an indian hunt with our bows and arrows to find animals in the woods to take home to our teepee.
His mother finally came home. Luckily she understood that he was a curious 2 year old. Of course she too tried to find out what would remove the red streaks. She tried some face cleanser without much luck, then she tried some toner which helped a little more, but still only lightened the marks. What finally worked was to scrub hard with a cotton ball soaked in fingernail polish remover. He cried and fought saying that it hurt, but she was able to get all but a few streaks removed.
Now I would like to say that he learned to stay out of grandma's makeup, but I can't. He climbed up on my bed this morning and immediately reached down and opened the makeup drawer and started to get the makeup out. He took out the bag pulled out the eyeshadow and started smearing it on his face saying "cute." Luckily today it was something easy to wash off.
He was sad because he wanted to be cute. He wanted to be indian. So I got to play with him and show him we could play indian hunt even if he wasn't "cute" with my makeup on.

My Answer- Not what I thought

Thank you Lord for helping me to find the answer to how to get out of the depression I have been stuck in the past 2 months. I couldn't seem to pull myself out and want to get on with life. I felt like I had lost someone, as if in death, but it was my own choice, to encourage my granddaughter to give her baby to someone else. I knew in my heart it was right, and I, above all, knew it was the only choice for this baby to live a normal happy life. Yet something about the whole thing was keeping me unable to walk through the pain. I was stuck. Then the answer was revealed. What I could not get through was not knowing how the young couple that were to adopt this precious little great-granddaughter were doing. I was not upset because they had the baby to raise instead of my granddaughter raising her. I was frustrated because I could not share in their joy at raising this little girl. I could not be there to hear their fears and worries about how their new baby was doing, or to hear the laughter and joy in their voices as they spoke about how cute their little princess was in her new outfit or how she melted their hearts with her big beautiful eyes. Then I found it, their blog and my depression lifted. Here I could see the smiles on their faces. I was able to see and hear how dad thought his little princess was so smart because she would stick her tongue out like daddy did. The picture of 2 sad faces, mom's and daughter's was precious, but it let me know that the mother understood that not all moments are happy and she could share the sadness with love. I am thankful that they thought to post a picture of the new father with his brothers and father. Unlike my granddaughter and the aunt she lives with, I was not able to meet the extended family that would be loving this new baby. I didn't know if they were fun loving or serious. I could see that glint in almost every eye that said, watch out, we can only be this good for a short while, don't expect too much. I love the look on the faces of my granddaughter's aunts. You can see the adoration they have for this precious angel. Anyway, the point is I am thankful that these new parents are willing to share their adventure, and thankful that I was pointed to the answers to my prayer