"I am beginning to learn that it is the sweet, simple things of life which are the real ones after all."
-- Laura Ingalls Wilder
Dear Daddy,
You really gave me a scare last week, and everyone else that loves you, too. I had planned a birthday surprise for you, but it was nothing major, just cake and ice cream and our family get-together. I didn’t get you a present to open. As I thought about things and the events that unfolded over the next few days, I regretted that I didn’t have a gift for you.
As I was wondering the gift shop at the hospital, I really felt out of sorts. I had stepped away from the room to make some phone calls, clear my head, and just make sense of all that had happened. I didn’t know what I was looking for, but really, God showed me what it was.
I’ll never forget the look you gave me as you lowered your glasses and saw the price tag when I brought back the coffee mug. (Sorry, I forgot to take it off.) You asked me if I really paid $14 for a coffee mug. The answer is no—I paid $28 for two. I know you have a gazillion mugs, but you didn’t have one like this, and neither did I. And no, it wasn’t the mug that God was showing me, but the message behind it.
The inscription on the mug says: Appreciate the little things, because one day you’ll back and realize they were the big things. My eyes welled up with tears when I read the words. As I turned the mug in my hand, I saw the figure watering the small bush and the larger tree next to it. My tears were no longer contained in my eyes; they were streaming down my face. I know it’s not even scripture, but I think that is one of the neat things about it. God reveals Himself to us in ways that surround us all the time. Sometimes I let myself become consumed with things that I make out to be big things, when really, they are small potatoes in the grand scheme of life. That’s part of being human, and sometimes God likes to slow us down and make us reconsider our perspective.
I immediately thought of you and of those I love the most in this life. I thought of your love of flowers and the outdoors, and how you instilled in me that same love. I realized that my happiest childhood memories are of us working together in the yard. My happiest memories as an adult are times I have spent working in the flower and vegetable gardens with Robert and Lydia. I remembered Nannie and how much she loved flowers. I remembered how you taught me the names of them and how Nannie sang to them to “get them to grow.” I’ve tried to pass this love on to Lydia. We’ve had her in the dirt since before she could walk and I’ve taught her the names as well. Robert works with her patiently in the vegetable garden, just as his grandpa did with him.
You see, I can’t put a price on those memories. I don’t need a mug to remind me to remember, but I thought you could think of me and I of you when we can’t be near and know how much we love each other. God reminded me that the little things in life should be the things we cherish the most. He did this in a way that was much more personal than any cheesy “priceless” MasterCard commercial. I answered by saying, “Ok God, you’ve got my attention. Thanks for saving my Daddy. I promise to pay more attention to the little things that I am so blessed to have. I’m trying to do the right thing in so many different directions of my life, I still make mistakes, and I need you to show me what the right things are.”
There in the hospital, you told me that everything happens for a reason, and God never puts more on us than we can handle. Even in the midst of things, you were comforting and parenting me. The thought of not have you as a presence in my life was very bleak and scary, but I know it is a part of growing up, growing older, and living life. There is no possession that could compare or replace those who I love the most. I spent years searching to fill a void because I didn’t have the capability at the time to realize the love surrounding me or the importance of the little things. I went to Texas and back, came home with an empty heart, and only then did I begin to treasure the little things that family provides. Over time, and with maturity, God has granted me a wonderful husband and beautiful daughter that have shown me more love than I thought I was even worth at times. They have helped me prioritize what is important and view life with a larger perspective. Our love is not found in grand things, but in small things we often take for granted. I think it all comes down to what a person’s view of big and small really is proportionately, in one’s heart and head.
I am thankful that I have a house, which is a necessity in life. It may not be the biggest or most fancy house, but it is ours and we have made a home. There is always a stack of bills that must be paid, but our table is blessed and our bellies are full. For us, these are the big things. We work for them and we have pride in what we do, but at the end of the day, it’s the little things that provide us with joy. Little things include: sitting in the front porch swing and planning our future, snuggling and laughing during Scooby Doo cartoons, reading bedtime stories, a refrigerator covered with memories and artwork, a note on the counter that says “I love you,” tomato sandwiches for breakfast, a dog at my feet after a hard day’s work, talking to you on the phone for an hour and not even realizing that an hour has passed, a kiss on the cheek for no reason at all, the sound and feeling of laughter with family, and evening walks.
We were more than lucky on April 10th, 2011, and that’s no little thing. I love you very much and I appreciate all that you are to me.
Love,
Amanda
Friday, April 29, 2011
Friday, April 1, 2011
Rainy Days
"Parents can only give good advice or put them on the right paths, but the final forming of a person's character lies in their own hands." ~Anne Frank
My daughter loves the Disney Princesses. Her favorite one has always been Ariel, the Little Mermaid. For her third birthday, I bought her an Ariel umbrella. It was a just a cheap child’s umbrella, but she loved it a lot. She loved it so much that it seems I have been buying an Ariel umbrella every six months for the past two years. I’ve figured out that the average life-expectancy of a cheap umbrella in the hands of my daughter is about six months. Each time one breaks, we have to get a new one, and no other Princess will do. She has carried Ariel proudly on every rainy day since Preschool, and now, well into Kindergarten. Last week, it was pouring down rain and she opened the umbrella to find it broken. “Great. Way to go,” I thought. But when I saw the look on her face, I knew that her heart was in worse shape than the umbrella.
We ventured out on that rainy Sunday to find a new one. I was secretly hoping that we could find one with Ariel, but trying to prepare her for the possibility that it might be time to let Ariel go. I was worried that our lucky streak was going to run out and she would have to settle for another character. Sure enough, there were no Ariel umbrellas, but I did find one with Hannah Montana on it. “Oh, Look! Hannah will do,” I told her, thinking it would be an easy sell for a five-year-old. And it was, until she saw a pink and black one with Sleeping Beauty on it. “Oh no, you don’t want that one. It’s way too big,” I told her. But she was certain that she had grown enough for “a big-girl umbrella just like Mommy.” I opened it in the store to prove my point to her, that she really couldn’t handle an umbrella that size, yet she was confident she could, so I let her try. I realized that with a little help and practice, she really could open and close it, and away we went with the big umbrella.
We practiced opening and closing it at home. Her little arms could barely stretch to open it all the way, but she managed. She pinched a finger when trying to close it, and she cried. She tried again and again. All afternoon she practiced with that thing. At that point, I hoped it was going to last six hours, never mind six months. She learned to adjust her grasp to push it open and use the release button to close it without pinching herself. For the next three days, she asked, “Do I get to use my new umbrella today? I really want it to rain!” Her big “rainy day” finally came and she couldn’t wait to take her umbrella to school and show her friends. She was so excited when she jumped out of the car at school that I didn’t even get my usual good-bye kiss.
She sprung from the car and rushed right up to two friends on the sidewalk. I watched through the window as she talked a mile a minute, and although I couldn’t hear the conversation, I had a pretty good idea of how it was going. I could see the excitement on her face, but she was having trouble getting it to stay open. As I peered through the window, a huge piece of my heart was aching while I watched my baby standing in the rain, desperately trying to open her new treasure. “Come on. Hold it like you practiced. Lord, please help her get that thing open,” I said out loud. By then, she had quite a gathering of friends with their own umbrellas who had stopped to see hers, but she still couldn’t get it completely open. The car line was moving and I had to go, but I watched impatiently in the mirror for as long as I could.
As a parent, even something this simple was hard for me. If I had been standing next to her, I could have helped her, or at least coached her through it. My first instinct would have been to just open it for her, so that she could show her friends. At that moment, it hit me: I can’t always be there for her to open the umbrella, to shield her from the rain, and see that she is successful in her endeavors. At little points that come all too quickly in life, I have to step back and let her have a go at things on her own.
Although I drove her to school that day, I had taken a “back seat” before her feet ever hit the sidewalk. She didn’t turn around to wave goodbye like usual, and she had no idea I continued to watch and secretly cheer her on. The older I get, the more I recognize the wisdom my daddy dispensed during my childhood and my turbulent teenage years. It must have been difficult for him to watch me make my own choices and inevitably, some mistakes. Some choices weren’t always the best ones, but in retrospect, I know that he was always watching and praying for me. Sometimes the greatest help a parent can give a child is not a “handout” or “help up.” The greatest help is to be a strong example. Thanks Dad, you’ve always been that for me. 
There will always be rainy days and times when even an umbrella (or a parent) can’t protect us from the storms of life. Sometimes the situations and plans we imagine don’t turn out the way hope or anticipate. No amount of preparation, planning, and rehearsing can insure that life’s situations will always work in our favor. But chances are, if the parents have laid the groundwork for a strong foundation, a child will be able to stand on his own. As a parent, I try to give her all the necessary tools for success and the wisdom to know how to use them. But ultimately, it will be up to her to define what her success and future will be. She will make the choice to use the wisdom or “learn the hard way.” I’m not a perfect parent, but I know that my daughter was the brightest and most beautiful thing I saw on that rainy day. I wasn’t able to see if she got the umbrella open before I drove away, but I wondered all day, because I knew how important it was to her. When I got home that afternoon, she had a story to tell that shined with accomplishment.
MAMA'S GIRL
My daughter loves the Disney Princesses. Her favorite one has always been Ariel, the Little Mermaid. For her third birthday, I bought her an Ariel umbrella. It was a just a cheap child’s umbrella, but she loved it a lot. She loved it so much that it seems I have been buying an Ariel umbrella every six months for the past two years. I’ve figured out that the average life-expectancy of a cheap umbrella in the hands of my daughter is about six months. Each time one breaks, we have to get a new one, and no other Princess will do. She has carried Ariel proudly on every rainy day since Preschool, and now, well into Kindergarten. Last week, it was pouring down rain and she opened the umbrella to find it broken. “Great. Way to go,” I thought. But when I saw the look on her face, I knew that her heart was in worse shape than the umbrella. We ventured out on that rainy Sunday to find a new one. I was secretly hoping that we could find one with Ariel, but trying to prepare her for the possibility that it might be time to let Ariel go. I was worried that our lucky streak was going to run out and she would have to settle for another character. Sure enough, there were no Ariel umbrellas, but I did find one with Hannah Montana on it. “Oh, Look! Hannah will do,” I told her, thinking it would be an easy sell for a five-year-old. And it was, until she saw a pink and black one with Sleeping Beauty on it. “Oh no, you don’t want that one. It’s way too big,” I told her. But she was certain that she had grown enough for “a big-girl umbrella just like Mommy.” I opened it in the store to prove my point to her, that she really couldn’t handle an umbrella that size, yet she was confident she could, so I let her try. I realized that with a little help and practice, she really could open and close it, and away we went with the big umbrella.
We practiced opening and closing it at home. Her little arms could barely stretch to open it all the way, but she managed. She pinched a finger when trying to close it, and she cried. She tried again and again. All afternoon she practiced with that thing. At that point, I hoped it was going to last six hours, never mind six months. She learned to adjust her grasp to push it open and use the release button to close it without pinching herself. For the next three days, she asked, “Do I get to use my new umbrella today? I really want it to rain!” Her big “rainy day” finally came and she couldn’t wait to take her umbrella to school and show her friends. She was so excited when she jumped out of the car at school that I didn’t even get my usual good-bye kiss.
She sprung from the car and rushed right up to two friends on the sidewalk. I watched through the window as she talked a mile a minute, and although I couldn’t hear the conversation, I had a pretty good idea of how it was going. I could see the excitement on her face, but she was having trouble getting it to stay open. As I peered through the window, a huge piece of my heart was aching while I watched my baby standing in the rain, desperately trying to open her new treasure. “Come on. Hold it like you practiced. Lord, please help her get that thing open,” I said out loud. By then, she had quite a gathering of friends with their own umbrellas who had stopped to see hers, but she still couldn’t get it completely open. The car line was moving and I had to go, but I watched impatiently in the mirror for as long as I could.
As a parent, even something this simple was hard for me. If I had been standing next to her, I could have helped her, or at least coached her through it. My first instinct would have been to just open it for her, so that she could show her friends. At that moment, it hit me: I can’t always be there for her to open the umbrella, to shield her from the rain, and see that she is successful in her endeavors. At little points that come all too quickly in life, I have to step back and let her have a go at things on her own.
Although I drove her to school that day, I had taken a “back seat” before her feet ever hit the sidewalk. She didn’t turn around to wave goodbye like usual, and she had no idea I continued to watch and secretly cheer her on. The older I get, the more I recognize the wisdom my daddy dispensed during my childhood and my turbulent teenage years. It must have been difficult for him to watch me make my own choices and inevitably, some mistakes. Some choices weren’t always the best ones, but in retrospect, I know that he was always watching and praying for me. Sometimes the greatest help a parent can give a child is not a “handout” or “help up.” The greatest help is to be a strong example. Thanks Dad, you’ve always been that for me. 
There will always be rainy days and times when even an umbrella (or a parent) can’t protect us from the storms of life. Sometimes the situations and plans we imagine don’t turn out the way hope or anticipate. No amount of preparation, planning, and rehearsing can insure that life’s situations will always work in our favor. But chances are, if the parents have laid the groundwork for a strong foundation, a child will be able to stand on his own. As a parent, I try to give her all the necessary tools for success and the wisdom to know how to use them. But ultimately, it will be up to her to define what her success and future will be. She will make the choice to use the wisdom or “learn the hard way.” I’m not a perfect parent, but I know that my daughter was the brightest and most beautiful thing I saw on that rainy day. I wasn’t able to see if she got the umbrella open before I drove away, but I wondered all day, because I knew how important it was to her. When I got home that afternoon, she had a story to tell that shined with accomplishment.
MAMA'S GIRL
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