by Barb Roose | May 8, 2014 | Reflections
When I was growing up, I thought my grandmother was magical. Of course, I had a pretty low threshold for what constituted magic, so Grandma surpassed it every single time. If we are lucky, the word “grandma” means big hugs and kisses, softness and smiles, but most of all, just a great big ‘ole dose of love. And Grandma’s love was the most magical of all.
We lived in one apartment complex on the outer edge of town and Grandma lived in the apartment complex next to us for many years. In my mind’s eye, I can still see Grandma standing in the open doorway with a big smile on her face and open arms. I see her short, round frame with knees bent slightly to absorb the full-force of my lanky child body. Her middle was soft and she smelled like perfume and Crisco. Future grandmas take note: You should always smell like something good in the kitchen. Your grandkids will like that.
On long summer days, we’d try to stay cool and Grandma always had cold watermelon slices – I could eat as many as I wanted. One summer day, Grandma let me eat the entire watermelon. I stopped eating watermelon after that. Grandma felt bad and started buying Icies instead.
Over the next 30 years, I grew up, moved away, went to college, got married, had two babies – and then one more. Grandma would come visit every two or three months. In the last six or seven years of her life, we would talk on the phone a few days a week and always on Fridays. During our Friday talks, I cleaned the house as we chatted about politics, Medicare, cars, kids, etc. At the end of every phone conversation, Grandma would say, “I love you, Barb.” I would reply, “I love you, too.” And then she would say, “Barbara, I love you.”
I was 37 years old when my grandmother passed away in January 2009. In the 18 months before she got sick and declined quickly, Grandma went on what I’d like to call her “Going Away Tour.” She visited friends and family in different states and we even went on a few “girls only” trips together. Our last trip was to an amusement park called “Kennywood” in Pennyslvania. We spent two days hopelessly lost in some forsaken little town and laughing non-stop over all of our wrong turns. If I had $1 for every time we heard “recalculating,” Grandma and I would have been able to buy matching Louboutins. (She loved high heels, too!)
Six weeks later, Grandma got sick and life began to blur. The doctors diagnosed her with pancreatic cancer and I promised myself not to cry until she died. Instead, I cried most every day.
A few quick months later, it was the end of our time with Grandma on this side of heaven. But, not the end for her. Magnolia Wells entered into the grandest beginning of everlasting life in heaven. As much as she loved us, we know Grandma wouldn’t trade out heaven for all the kisses and hugs in the world. And I know she was able to leave this earth with the peace in knowing we’ll see her again one day.
A few days after Grandma’s funeral, my mom and I were on the phone. At the end of the conversation Mom said, “I love you, Barb.” I replied, “I love you, too.” Then, Mom took a breath and began to carry on Grandma’s good-bye tradition and whispered one more “I love you.” A tradition she carries on today, five years later.
After Grandma died, I was lucky enough to keep two things that remind me of her life: her Red Door perfume and her handwritten German Chocolate Cake recipe. Two bottles of Red Door sit on my dresser. Once or twice a year, I take off the cap and take a sniff. One whiff of that fragrance and Grandma memories flood my heart and mind. I am magically transported back to the moments in her presence that blessed my life in so many ways.
The copy of her German chocolate cake recipe is tucked away in my kitchen. Looking at her loopy handwriting warms my heart with some great memories. Like the time when I was a ten-year old girl learning how to make Grandma’s famed cake. That day, I learned how to separate eggs and Grandma let me stir the pecan frosting. It was so hard waiting for the frosting to cool. But, the moment finally arrived! Grandma frosted the cake and then looked at me with a smile. She slid the near empty frosting bowl in front of me with grin and a warning: “Don’t eat too much. You’ll get the runs.”
(One day, I’ll have to tell you about the time Grandma plucked off her eyebrows and drew them back on navy blue…)
Do you have a Mother’s Day tribute that you’d like to share? We’d love to read it!
by Barb Roose | Apr 11, 2014 | Women's Topics
Samantha leaving for camp this past Monday
So, it’s the end of the school year. Many of you are celebrating kindergarten or high school graduations and every other kind of milestone in-between. If you’ve got a few tissues left and want to keep that nostalgic feeling going, this re-post about letting go of our children grow up is dedicated to you…
This week, my 18-year old daughter, Samantha, has been away at camp. A few months ago, she interviewed to be a 5th grade camp counselor and was thrilled to be selected.
My soon-to-be-graduated senior bolted from my car on Monday with a big smile on her face. As she grabbed her bags and slammed the car door (because SOMEONE doesn’t have her license yet…) Samantha’s final words were: “Have a great week, Mom. Don’t miss me.”
I have missed her this week. And, I’ve also realized that the time is quickly approaching that I will be missing her much more and often. She graduates from high school at the end of next month and my second child will be off to begin her life.
“Don’t miss me, Mom…”
Springtime always reminds me that life is meant to grow and blossom. Even our kids…
Sami, Kate and Abbie – Christmas 2000
When my girls were babies, there was no Facebook or any other social media. Which meant that there was no reason to take weekly photos of my little Roosters spread on a pretty blanket with a chalkboard or ABC blocks with their ages on it.
But, I did have a disposable Fuji camera, y’all. Only 2 out of the 24 pictures ever turned out nicely, but those memories were captured just the same. I’ve got stacks of slightly blurry, kinda dark photos of some very special moments.
First smile…first up-the-back diaper blowout…first jar food…first sleeping in the crib…first ride on the tricycle…first unplanned haircut…
Back then, motherhood was all about getting my children to those “first” moments. “When will they…?” was always on my mind. The thrill of motherhood meant that I couldn’t wait for those “first” moments.
That is, until those “first” moments started to take my girls away from me…
Matt, Kate and Samantha on Kate’s first day of kindergarten. Seems like yesterday…
Mamas, remember those first steps? Remember the moment when your little one let go of your fingers? Your heart burst with pride and fear at the same time. Those first steps away from you were the best and worst moment of your life. As much as you embraced your child’s new journey, there was something deep inside that urged you to push that baby down and tie him or her to a safety seat. Go, go, go…no, stay with me…
Once our kids start moving on their own, it just seems that they are constantly moving away from us. And we want them to go. But, we want them to stay, right?
While writing this post, my oldest daughter emailed me to let me know that she’s going to New Mexico this summer. That’s in addition to her trip to South Korea and two weeks of training. So, this summer, she’ll be home for only five days. Less than 150 hours.
“Don’t miss me, Mom…”
Over the years I’ve discovered that ‘letting go’ is a season all it’s own. We don’t just let go on any given day. Instead, there are many, many letting go moments. Good moments that taste bittersweet. Good moments that make us smile and cry at the same time. Like the last time we nurse our babies or the day we dismantle the crib. Letting go moments when they go on the first sleepover or finish that big project on their own.
The year that my oldest daughter turned 16 was horrible. I knew that one day she would want to drive away without me. In my nightmares and daydreams, I could only think of her getting into a car accident and being taken from me. I didn’t want her to drive, but she insisted on getting her license. Months later, she hoped into the car and drove away on her own. Just like that.
I let go. (And I survived.)
After two decades of parenting, I finally settled into the realization that “letting go” is a season because it takes time for us mamas to do it. We don’t just wake up one morning and feel okay with the speed at which our children are growing up. We’re thrilled when they learn to tie their shoes, ride to the end of the block or stay over night. Yes! But, we struggle against the place that says It’s going so fast… Yep, it is.
And as much as want our kids to burst into independence and find their place in the world, deep in our hearts, we want to tie our children down to keep them close forever. But, we know that’s not love. That’s not what they need. We need to let go.
So, if you are like me and these days your children are growing up, smile. They are doing exactly what you’re nurturing them to do – even if right now they are making decisions that hurt your mama heart. They are taking on the world, whether they are scooting, crawling, walking, running, driving or flying away from you. You can’t always go with them, but your love is indelibly stamped on their lives. They’ll always take a piece of your heart whereever they go.
Samantha graduation on June 1. Photo Credit: Jeff Wirebaugh, MD
This summer, I’ll hold my breath while one piece of my heart criss-crosses the country for a few weeks before heading overseas. Another piece of my heart will cross a high school graduation stage and search for her place in the world (and I’ll embrace my role as an advisor on the sidelines). A third piece of my heart will travel to summer camp and to a lot of sleepovers. Don’t miss me, Mom!
I’ll try not to, honey…
If you enjoyed this blog and you think another mama might enjoy it, feel free to share. Thanks!
by Barb Roose | Jul 10, 2013 | Christian Living/Discipleship
I’m finally back in the air again.Today, I am traveling to Spartanburg, South Carolina via Greenville (or Greensboro – not sure which one because I haven’t be able to keep all of the “Green–” cities straight.)My flight left Detroit on schedule at 2:15pm this afternoon. Just prior to lift off, I do what I always do on flights: I went to sleep. I was having a great nap until the pilot’s voice broke through my semi-conscious state and informed us that our plane was returning to Detroit for mechanical repairs. Since I am a big fan of not crashing, I went along with the pilot’s plan.Ninety minutes later, we are back in the air. Once we could power up our electronics, I figured I would distract myself from additional concerns by writing to you. So, this experience got me to thinking…
As much as we hate to admit it, life is much more interesting when there is a “war” story – like when things don’t go as planned – or they go worse than expected. Yes, we hate the way those moment feels, but how often do those difficult moments bring out the very best in us and in others?
This is the way I thought today would go: drive to the airport, fly to SC, pick up my rental, drive to the hotel, eat a salad and take a long, hot, relaxing bath.
Nope. Not gonna happen. Here’s the actual version as I think it’s gonna go down: take off from Detroit, fly around for a little while, return to Detroit, PRAY FOR REALLY SMART MAINTENANCE GUYS, take off from Detroit, pray during turbulence, land really late in SC, go to hotel, eat some pretzels and fall asleep exhausted with my clothes on. (Update: I did end up getting a salad and a bath…)
If we’re being honest, wouldn’t you admit that the second scenario is much more interesting than the first? Absolutely! Why?
We think we want problem-free life with only smoooooth sailing. Or, do we? I don’t think so.
I’ve been to a number of NASCAR races over the years. Yes, I watch NASCAR. Think about this, if Dale Jr., Kurt Busch, Jimmy Johnson or Matt Kenseth were only going 50 mph top speed around the track, NASCAR would be a snore. No one wants to watch people racing at normal speed! NASCAR encompasses so many metaphors for life – drivers push the limits of speed and risk. In each race there are winners, losers, crashes, cautions, debris, etc. Kinda reminds you of life, doesn’t it?
There is no love without risk, likewise, there is no hope without faith. Success doesn’t happen without sweat. Ultimately, living on the cliff of uncertainty is where the best of life happens.
For me, sometimes living as a person of faith kinda feels like living on the cliff of uncertainty…it’s thrilling, but terrifying at the same time.
I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to “walk by faith.” This is a phrase from the Bible that characterizes the kind of life that I want to live. Recently, I realized that there is a cliff of uncertainty in my life and I need to really focus on “walking by faith.” For me, “faith” isn’t a hallow term, rather “faith” is an unwavering conviction in my life based on personal experience rather than feel-good emotions. (If you want to know more, inbox me on Facebook or email me, I’d love to converse.)
Part of “walking by faith” means that there are going to be a lot of twists and turns in the journey of my life. On face value, there are going to be moments that seem like I’m winning, others where I am definitely losing and a lot of complexities woven throughout.
Yet, when I remember the journey I have had so far, God has created a path so much richer than the outline I would have created for myself.
So, I am going to dedicate myself to remembering that even though I know the end of my life’s story, today, I will choose to trust in a God that knows all the unknown ups and downs between now and then.
By the way, Matt Kenseth is my driver. Since my NASCAR-loving hubby’s name is Matt, he thinks that’s hot.
