I usually enjoy listening to guided meditations but I opted for just the quiet calm that the house is hushed with today.
With the birds chirping their spring like compositions I drifted off into my quietude. I recalled the sweet memory of my grandmother visiting me after the birth of my son.
My grandmother was still driving then and had arrived each morning for a week while I was on leave. She said that she was there to help in any way I chose. She'd take care of the baby if I wanted or she'd do some house work so that I could sit with the baby.
Oh how my Grannie loved the babies. It wasn't just the intoxicating baby smell or soft skin. She always loved a baby's ears.
"He's got perfect ears. Just look at them." she'd whisper as she smiled at him.
One morning she brought some treats from the bakery- blueberry fritters. Oh how delicious they were with a fresh pot of coffee and my grandmother's company. I have searched for blueberry fritters ever since and have never found them. Something tells me that they wouldn't taste the same anyway as it was probably the magic of the special visit with my grandmother that made them taste so good.
Being a new mother is intimidating. All of the books, articles and birthing classes just don't prepare you for the moment when you're finally alone with your new little bundle of life. It's not so much fear that drives the anxiety but more the absence of specific knowledge.
Grannie would arrive and somehow everything seemed OK. She didn't swoop in and tell me what needed to be done. Somehow just her presence was enough. Her sweet humming while she folded cloths or washed dishes was so comforting. Without words I began absorbing generations of motherhood knowledge.
What a special gift.
While writing this post I had a similar memory of taking my grandmother to her doctor visits. She was almost always anxious before her doctor visits. There was plenty of time in the car, doctor's office waiting rooms and blood labs to talk. Most appointments ended with lunch at Long John Silver's. (Other than ice cream, one of Grannie's favorite treats!)
She was always different after a doctor's visit. She'd get a clean bill of health and off she'd zip behind her walker ready for some tasty fish. Suddenly everything would be OK. The conversation over fish dinner was much lighter and she'd always thank me for my company.
Presence is such a powerful thing. Sometimes the greatest gift you can give a loved one is your presence. You don't need to arrive bearing gifts, just your self. That connection with each other is sometimes our most valuable tribute.
Thanks for letting me share my sweet memory with you. I hope it conjured up a sweet memory or two of your own. Give yourself enough time to bask in your sweet memory and honor the blessing that it is.
Grannie would arrive and somehow everything seemed OK. She didn't swoop in and tell me what needed to be done. Somehow just her presence was enough. Her sweet humming while she folded cloths or washed dishes was so comforting. Without words I began absorbing generations of motherhood knowledge.
What a special gift.
While writing this post I had a similar memory of taking my grandmother to her doctor visits. She was almost always anxious before her doctor visits. There was plenty of time in the car, doctor's office waiting rooms and blood labs to talk. Most appointments ended with lunch at Long John Silver's. (Other than ice cream, one of Grannie's favorite treats!)
She was always different after a doctor's visit. She'd get a clean bill of health and off she'd zip behind her walker ready for some tasty fish. Suddenly everything would be OK. The conversation over fish dinner was much lighter and she'd always thank me for my company.
Presence is such a powerful thing. Sometimes the greatest gift you can give a loved one is your presence. You don't need to arrive bearing gifts, just your self. That connection with each other is sometimes our most valuable tribute.
Thanks for letting me share my sweet memory with you. I hope it conjured up a sweet memory or two of your own. Give yourself enough time to bask in your sweet memory and honor the blessing that it is.