Unconditional Love Part II

This is a follow up to a post that I made about unconditional love a couple of weeks ago.

Dr. Scott Peck wrote that once a child gets the feeling that she’s valuable, it can carry her through all of the vicissitudes (love that word) of life. That’s not to say that life won’t knock her around a few times, but rather that regardless of what happens, the person will eventually brush herself off and say something like, “That was awful. However, I’d be crazy to keep wallowing in it. I’m so moving on with my life.” On the other hand, a person who hasn’t received that feeling of “value,” the sure knowledge that she’s loved, will have a tougher go of it. That’s not to say that you can’t get that strength of character or security as an adult, just that it’s more difficult. By that time, the person has developed filters and defenses that prevent some of the good stuff from getting through.

Where am I going with this?? I was thinking of my little granddaughter Brooke and a conversation we had recently. She’s a doll, by the way. I love her curly hair, blue eyes, and stalwart character.   That’s a strong word to describe a 4 year-old, but I think it fits. One day her mother was making the children complete some tasks around the house, and Brooke said, “I don’t like to work, but we have to do it.” She then walked (trudged) into her bedroom and began putting away her clothes.  Yesterday, rather than color during church, she resolutely paid attention to the speakers because she thought it was important to try to learn something.

Back to the love story, the one that prompted this blog. Recently, I was visiting with Brooke and her family, and after I hugged her and then put her on my lap to get a good look at her precious face, I said something like, “Grandmama loves you so much.”  She just sort of looked at me without changing expression, so I said, “You’re so special to me, and I just love you to pieces.” Here’s the clincher.  She said, “Well, I already knowed that before you camed here. “ When I asked her how she knew it, Brooke said, “I don’t know how I knowed it. I just did.”

Overlook the creative way she uses past tense (child psychologists have a term for that), and think about the significance of what she said. Brooke feels love. She doesn’t have to be told over and over because she knows it; she feels it. What she feels and knows is the right of every child, not just my grandchildren but every child. I just can’t figure out why some parents don’t get this…or why they don’t care.

Beach Day

  

 

Confession. Katherine, Elizabeth, and I didn’t go to church last Sunday, at least not in the traditional sense. Together at the beach on the day before school officially began for all of us on Monday, we decided to visit the strand itself. We told ourselves that we were going worship the Creator in one of His most beautiful and soul stirring “cathedrals,” the beach.

That’s what we did too. To assuage my conscience, I stuck two church magazines in my bag and read one of them cover to cover. As we traipsed along the boardwalk, Katherine suggested that we talk about how grateful we were for all of our many blessings, and right away we began enumerating them: the ocean, the sea birds, the sun, the pretty flowers along the sandy path, family, friends, sisterhood, jobs that we enjoy, energy to do our jobs, the laughter of children, health, the sound of music, their granny (my mother), laughter, and a long list of other things that we thought of. We also discussed how memory itself can be a blessing (depending on what you’re remembering), and we decided to store up the memories of our time together to take out and savor at a later time…when we were feeling stressed or sad.

After about an hour, I decided to go for a walk, and along the way I saw a couple of interesting sights that are still strong images in my mind. First, I spied a young pregnant woman wearing a white bikini. Yes, it was a bikini. What attracted my attention was her calm demeanor and the way she was sitting, almost in what I’d call a yoga position. Then she did the unthinkable. She lifted a cigarette to her lips and inhaled! Gee whiz. What was she thinking??? Doesn’t she realize that when she takes a little puff her baby does too? Feeling perturbed, I looked towards the ocean and saw another mother, this one middle aged. She was standing a few inches in the ocean holding the hand of her teenage son. As I got closer, I could see that he had some challenges, and her obvious love for him touched my heart.

Soon I turned back towards our chairs, and as I glanced to my right, I saw my niece Katherine. Walking briskly, she seemed so determined and intense that I almost hesitated to interrupt her. When I called her name, she turned to me with a relieved, grateful look and said, “Oh Aunt Jayne, I’ve been looking for you. I went walking to clear my mind, and I have no idea where I am.” She had asked two lifeguards and the cute Lemon Quench guy for help but was still “lost.” Finally, she’d prayed that she’d see me, and almost right away, she heard me call her name. Okay, I know some of you skeptics out there might say it was a lucky coincidence. Katherine and I know different.

Walking together, we spied Elizabeth calmly reading, unaware of the drama that had taken place. The three of us munched on Red Delicious apples and drank some cool, clear water as we chatted about the new beginnings all of us had in store the next day. Then reluctantly we packed up our stuff and left for home.  It’s not the way we usually spend our Sundays, but the three of us feel fine about it. More keenly aware of our blessings and of the power of prayer, we’re glad we spent our day at the beach cathedral.

Unconditional Love

 

My heart is heavy this afternoon because I keep thinking of some unsettling information I picked up on last night. It had to do with family strife that, in my estimation, borders on mental and physical cruelty. If we can’t love our own children, step children included, how can we presume to call ourselves Christians? Yes, I know that children (spouses too sometimes) can try our very souls, but at those moments, we need to ask ourselves the sometimes over-trivialized question of WWJD. I don’t think He’d berate, criticize, humiliate, belittle, or beat another person just because the other person wasn’t living up to His expectations (if that’s the case, we’d all have welts and bruises!).

In the LDS religion, as in all other Christian faiths, we’re taught to follow the Savior’s example and to “love one another.” To me, that loving feeling starts in our own homes. 

I was thinking of all of these things a little while ago when I logged on to my daughter’s blog and read what she had written about an incident that happened in her home yesterday. Peeking around the corner to make sure everything was okay, she heard 4-year-old Brooke saying these words to her baby brother: “You are so adorable! I love you so much! I love you when you are crazy! I love you when you are crying! I love you when you are whining! I love you when you are stinky! I love you when you are chewing on your hand! I love you all the time, no matter what!”

Brooke’s sweet example of not only sibling love but also of unconditional love touched her mother’s heart…and her grandmother’s too! Why can’t we all profess that kind of love and acceptance to our family members? What’s the value in being cruel? Don’t people understand how distancing that can be? Don’t they understand how damaging to a child’s psyche that can be? Don’t they care?

Why am I writing this? I wouldn’t say I’m exactly on a crusade, but I will say that those of us who are aware of these types of physical, emotional, and mental abuse need to speak up. Unless we do, then we too will be holding the Lord’s name in vain.

Same Sweet Girls

Our book club met Thursday night at Kathy’s house, and although we were few in number, we had a great meeting. Translation: The discussion was healthy, dynamic, and “on track,” and the refreshments were yummy. The book Kathy chose was The Same Sweet Girls by Cassandra King, and I highly recommend it for anyone (female, that is) who’s looking for a summer read. It’s not deep or rife with philosophical ponderings, but it struck a cord with those of us who were present that night. We’re all Southern women “of a certain age” who’ve had many life experiences, thus enabling us to identify with the “same sweet girls” in the book.

Although there are several directions this blog could take, I’m going to write briefly (sort of) about the importance of friendship and the commonalities of our female experiences. In King’s novel, six women who met in college have remained friends over the years, and they meet twice a year to have a long girls’ weekend. The dynamics between them seem pretty fascinating at first, and then you realize, “Hey, that’s just like me and my friends.”

One of the things we discussed was how likely it would be for six people to remain fast friends for 30 years, so close that they actually sought out each other’s company year after year.  Plus, despite their rivalries and “pairings,” they all seemed to genuinely care about each other. Do you know anyone who gets together twice a year with five other friends from college? Sometimes life gets in the way of those get-togethers. Then too, choices (too many to go into tonight) lead people in different directions. My college roommate lives in Montana, and we see each other for a weekend once every two years.

Back to the story. Connie brought up the fact that while we might not have decades-old friends that we get together with regularly, we all have friends whose lives we share. She has some fun-loving SSGs that she regularly goes on jaunts with. She also has “us,” her church friends. Then there are work friends, high school friends, neighborhood friends, family friends, and the list goes on.  In thinking about my life at the moment, my work and church friends make life in the midlands much richer than it would be without them.  Oh, and lest I forget, my facebook and blogging friends are phenomenal. In fact, I got more birthday greetings on facebook than I ever have in my entire life!

I love my friends, old and new, but it’s the old ones I’m thinking about tonight.  The five of us in the picture above have known each other since we were children. Between us we have 11 children, several grandchildren, some broken marriages (of which we aren’t proud). Judy is the only one who’s still married to the same man she said yes to 40 years ago. Well, that’s not entirely true. Jeanita is still married to the same man, but they divorced for a few years until he realized what a gem she was and begged her to come to Texas. That’s my interpretation anyway.

We all walk different paths in life and have different careers, styles, interests, hobbies, personalities, and religious beliefs (at least I do). We know each other’s families and histories. That seems like a little thing, but it’s not. It’s cool knowing that Jeanita’s father looked like a movie star, second only to my own father. It’s great thinking about Joan Ella’s mother singing in the choir with mine and that she had younger brothers named Benny and Kenny. Speaking of singing, Patty had a wonderful voice and often sang solos at church. We both had dark hair, cut straight with bangs, and once Mr. Monty, the minister, got me confused with her and asked me if I would be singing that morning. Ha ha. Judy too had brothers, three of them, and since we went to different churches and schools, I didn’t get to know her well until our high school years.

Gee whiz. It’s time to get ready for bed, and I haven’t even gotten to the important part of this blog…the part about whether or not the women in the book were crazy and whether all women are crazy or just Southern women. I say their lives are not that different from all of us. Who hasn’t got a skeleton in her closet? Who hasn’t had her heart broken slap open? Who hasn’t cried over a child? Who hasn’t suffered disappointment or looked sickness, death, or tremendous loss right in the eye? Guess I’m going a little overboard. Maybe I’ll get more into this tomorrow.

Connie, if you’re reading this, could you share your two cents’ worth about crazy Southern women?

Change of Perspective

First there was Michael. Then Farrah. Or do I have it reversed? Well, it doesn’t really matter. They’re both gone, from Earth at least. So are Robert McNamara, Walter Cronkite, and Ed McMahon, and a host of other dearly departed. What these five have in common is that they all contributed a lot to the world. All were stars who shone brightly in their respective fields. Even now I can see Michael moon dancing across a stage and Farrah flashing her beautiful smile.

But now they’re gone “the way of all flesh.” Thinking about them reminds me of a conversation I had with Shirley, my college roommate who now lives in Montana. Recently we spent a weekend together, and one of our many, many topics included life after death. Shirley commented that she had begun to realize the importance of living one’s life with an eternal perspective. The so-called “getting and spending” and striving and climbing and jockeying for position came to naught if a person failed to live a life dedicated to serving God and all of His creations.

I agree with Shirley, as anyone who regularly reads my blog would guess. However, what interests me about our conversation and this way of thinking is that while most people can see that what they do today affects tomorrow in “real life,” they don’t so often think about their “after life.” For instance, smoking is linked to lung cancer, chronic lung disease, and heart disease; excessive sun bathing can lead to skin cancer; too many sweets can contribute to diabetes, not to mention obesity. Speaking of obesity, it’s linked to a myriad of diseases and disorders. Whatever we do or don’t do is going to show up later in life. Along these same lines, exercise (what my students call the E-word) can help a person in every single area of her life, even the spiritual one.

So why is it that a person (me, for instance) might walk six days a week, drink water instead of tea or soft drinks, avoid excessive calories and fat grams, and yet neglect scripture reading or prayer? Why will a person turn her nose up at tobacco, alcohol, and other drugs, and yet fail to follow the commandment to love one another?

Hmmm. I don’t know the answers to those questions. It’s just that lately I’ve been thinking of just how much longer I want to live and of just what I need to do to get there. Maybe I should start thinking more about eternity instead. It’s going to last FOREVER.

Beach Lessons

I can’t help it. The older I get, the more lessons I see in just about everything, and this past Friday’s adventure at the beach with Carrie and her children was no exception. In fact, in a relatively short period of time, I was reminded of a host of things. Here goes.

It was a 35 mile trip from Lib’s house to the strand, and on our way we rode in and out of sunshine. Carrie expressed concern over the overcast skies, but I reminded her of how things could be sunny on the beach and raining like crazy a couple of blocks away. We found a parking place at 50^th Avenue, and it was lovely.  As we got out of the car and began unloading our stuff (chairs, towels, bags, children) to walk down to the beach, I couldn’t help but notice how lovely the sea oats and other greenery were. They framed the scene so nicely for us that I  made the three older Maseda kids pose for me (see above).

Within minutes, we were basking in the sun and getting our feet wet in the warm water. Carrie was snapping pictures right and left, and all was grand. Then suddenly, Carrie said, “It’s raining.” I turned around to see her gathering up our things, and about that time the sky fell in…or so it seemed. Blinding sheets of rain pelted us, and wherever I looked, I saw people walking, heads down, as fast as they could towards shelter.  Then the wind picked up, and sand stung our legs.

Truly, of all of my decades of coming to the beach, I’ve never experienced such a deluge of rain and windborne sand. It was actually a little disconcerting, especially when I saw Emma and Brooke screaming as they tried to wrap their towels around their tiny bodies. Around and around, they spun. Braden didn’t look too happy either, but he had managed to get his towel around him, thus protecting his skin from the stinging sand and pelting rain.  I had the baby in my arms, and all I could see were his blue, blue eyes searching my face as if to ask, “What’s going on?” Carrie got the truly necessary items, and we left the chairs behind. Once in the car, the children enjoyed their Fruit Snacks, and Colton and I shared a banana while Carrie closely monitored the weather. Within five minutes, it was over. Seriously, the rain and wind ceased completely, and the sun popped out.  The sky was a beautiful Carolina blue with only a few white clouds in the sky.

Again, we trudged down to the strand and got set up again. What followed was a delightful afternoon of sun and fun. Among my favorite memories are Braden and Emma frolicking in the surf. Brooke was more cautious and stayed along the edge of the water. She spent much of her time searching for sea shells, and I’m hoping that she and her mom will make me a picture frame with the tiny shells that we collected. Emma was the daredevil, and once when she tromped out behind Braden and wouldn’t stop no matter how loudly I yelled, the strong surf knocked her down.  I tried to pick her up while holding on to Carrie’s camera,  but again she fell. The current was just too strong. Unfortunately, the camera got wet, but I was able to pull Emma out of the surf. Undaunted, she continued to play in the ocean.  Colton, the happiest baby in the world, slept through much of the afternoon. I took him for a long, slow (he’s heavy) walk, and as I’d look down at his sleeping face, I couldn’t help but remember my own babies and how walking them always seemed to lull them to sleep.

So what are the lessons I was reminded of?  The primary one is that storms always pass; that’s nature’s way.  This is true for “real life” too. The sun always comes out again, and sometimes when it comes out again, the brightness of it is even better than before. Sometimes in life our trials last much longer, but they always pass, and at some point in time, you’ll see a ray of sun shining through.  Even if it’s just a tiny ray, it can give you hope.

Another lesson learned is that we need to travel lightly. People count. So do provisions. We had to get the children to safety, and we left the things that didn’t matter so much behind.

While we were sitting in the car waiting it out, I thought of how nice it was to have a little refreshment to tide us over. It gave the children something to do and took their minds off of the storm for a few moments.

A final lesson is that while you’re waiting out the storm, it’s nice if you have people with you who are positive. Who wants a naysayer awfulizing about something? Carrie and I kept each other’s spirits up by reminding each other of how quickly these storms can come and go.

This is the longest blog post I’ve written in a while, and believe it or not, there’s plenty more I could add. I won’t, however. I’ll just wait and see if anyone comments on any of the experiences you’ve had with storms or about the value of positive people, refreshments, or material things (?) when the going gets rough.