Surprises!

Some members of our family love surprises. In fact most of us do. I think that the tradition started a long time ago with my parents. Those two people loved to spring surprise parties and surprise, somewhat extravagant gifts, on each other and their children. One of my special memories was the Christmas that Daddy bought Mother a new car. He was about the to "bust" with excitement when he told me how we were going to pull off the surprise. The plan involved a fairly complicated hiding of the new wheels in a garage that belonged to the church two doors away from our house. Daddy hid the car, a sporty yellow Chevy, in the garage a few days before Christmas and gave my sister and me the ribbon to decorate it. Janet and I sneaked over there and pulled the ribbon around it and attached a big red bow on the roof. On Christmas morning, Daddy snuck out of the house in the dark and drove the car into the driveway beyond the front porch and past the dining room windows so that Mom couldn't see it. As was our custom, Daddy would always go into the living room to "check and see if Santa had come" while we slept. Daddy would always say, "No, he hasn't come yet, so go back to bed." We knew he was joking! We'd storm into the room and exclaim over all the loot and then we'd settle down to open presents. Mom would always be the last to open hers. That Christmas, Janet and I could hardly contain our excitement as she opened the usual stuff; clothes, new pjs and so on. The last gift was handed to her by Daddy and as she opened a box of silky panties a set of keys on a shiny new keyring fell out. Mom held them up and asked Daddy what they were for. Daddy just laughed his deep chuckle and told her that maybe she ought to check outside for what Santa had left for her. Mom did and was beside herself with excitement. In our pjs, we took the new car for a spin around the block! Daddy was grinning from ear to ear because no one enjoyed surprising his loved ones more than my Daddy.

The tradition continued well into our adulthood. Once, a month after our move to North Carolina, over six hundred miles away from home, my parents decided to surprise us with a weekend visit. Gene was working late and I had had an especially trying day. The move and getting everyone settled into our new home far away from our friends and family, had left me very lonely and unsettled. After getting the three children fed, bathed and into their pajamas, I told them that they could watch a little TV before bedtime. They were happily watching TV in the den, so I told the oldest child to keep the two younger ones quiet just long enough for me to take a quick shower. A promise of buttered popcorn sealed that deal and on my way to the shower, I casually reminded him to not open the door for anyone, except of course Mimi and Papaw! ESP? You guessed it! When I got out of the shower, there they were on our front porch. Happy Birthday to me, for a few days later it really was my birthday. Surprise!

Next month is my husband's birthday. For months I've been contemplating what I could give him that would really please him. Racking my brain for the perfect gift became an obsession. I finally decided on something that I hope he will love. He doesn't have a hobby or at least one that he spends time doing because between coaching baseball, working and raising four kids with me, there never seemed to be enough time nor money to devote to a hobby. His family _is_ his hobby. Time spent with us is what he loves best, so I'm giving him time. With my trusty laptop I've booked time for us. We can't take the whole gang along for this time, but maybe next year we will.

My parents are both gone from me, but their tradition of surprising each other lives on. They taught me a lot about spending "date" time without kids and enjoying each other, so for his birthday this year, I've planned a weekend in New Orleans followed by a cruise. I hope he likes it. I have been daydreaming for weeks about strolling hand and hand with him through the French Quarter, as we did many years ago before we had children. He loves to "people watch", so I'm sure we'll do a lot of that during that week too. We don't have to be anywhere in order to spend time together, but a trip together is a reminder of the time before the race began. Time is the most important gift I can give him. Our daughter jokes that he gets out of sorts when he doesn't get enough "Linda time", so I hope that this gift will give him what he wants most! I'm crossing my fingers and hoping !

Happy Birthday, Honey. I love you more today than I did over forty years ago when I first saw you on that hot summer night. You out-shone all the stars then and you still do. Even with all the craziness, I'd do it all over again. May you have many more birthdays and always with me!
 XOXOXOXO always,
L

Thankful

Today on Oprah a family shared their grief at loosing their three children in a car wreck. It made me pause to reflect on our many blessings.

I want to live in the moment. I want to hug and kiss the ones I love and tell them how much they mean to me. I want to clip Sharon Randall's columns out of the newspaper, copy and send them to my kids when my own words fail me. Sharon can always be counted on to fill in the blanks.

I want to see thing more clearly. I want to understand and listen more closely. I wan to be still and silent every now and then. I want to not carry anger around with me. I want to release the fear of the unknown from my heart. I want to be more daring.

Just writing this blog makes me feel free. I want to remember to be thankful for the freedom to do so.

I want to pray more. I will do these things.

Parents

There they were, right there on the ends of my legs! My father's feet! Oh my God, my mother's skin is hanging off my chin. I look at my hands and see daddy's wide fingers and large knuckles. There smack dab on my face are my grandmother's eyes. Everyday we say and hear others say that this or that looks just like so and so. I am guilty of doing that, especially when I see some feature on a grandchild that so resembles one of his or her parents, my own children.

What we don't see quite as often is what is in their heart. Will that heart be the sweet, forgiving one of my mother? Does one inherit such things? Do we teach our kids to be loving, forgiving people? Are they born with it? Do they just pick it up from us? Do they only learn from example? I'd like to think that loving and forgiving are a combination of all of those things.

Just recently, I peeked behind the curtain of one of my sons' heart. What I saw was that what he had learned made him a better person than I am. His heart and soul are exactly what I'd hoped they would be. He is a grown man with a child of his own. One day I hope he will peek under the curtain that surrounds her heart and see the same thing. Inherited or learned; both form the person and make a mother proud.