There’s this great scripture passage in the bible that reads “Perhaps you were born for such a time as this.” (Esther 4:14) It’s one of those passages that reminds me that life happens for a purpose and a plan. In the words of another blogger … “it means that God has put you on this earth at this time and has placed you where you are and with the people you are with for a reason.”
It’s not a coincidence that this passage is on my heart. Just a few nights ago, my youngest daughter became a first-time mama as she welcomed a new little bundle of all things boy. While waiting for his sweet arrival, my mama heart experienced moments of anxiousness, excitement, nervousness, and of course, happiness for the new life that would soon be joining our family. In addition to all these normal emotions, I must admit, I also struggled with just a tiny bit of melancholy sadness as one life chapter closed while a new one began. My melancholy heart flashes back to when she was a baby. Knowing she was going to be my last, I cherished all the “last baby” moments as I held her close. From midnight feedings to first school bus rides and all the moments since then, she has been (and will always be) my baby. While my other daughters grew up and began families of their own, I held on to my youngest with a fierce grip that comes from being a mother. Soaking in all the “last baby” moments I could, I continued to hold her close as sweet moments were cherished. Watching her become a mother has been by far the most precious of moments. Following the birth of her son, she anxiously listened for that first cry. With tears streaming down her face, she asked, “Is he okay?” And finally, the sweetest answer came in the form of a newborn cry. She reached for him and cradled him to her heart with a mother's grip while whispering words of love. It was at that moment that I witnessed the birth of a new mom. Her mama journey begins as my journey changes. And the grip that I held so tight slowly loosens as it slips from my grasp to hers. And then I realize, perhaps I was born for such a time as this.
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When I was a child, the start of a new year always meant a time to see how much physical changes had been made over the previous year. Before the Rose Bowl Parade could be watched on TV, my sisters and I had to parade around in our pjs while the scale was dusted off and the yardstick was located. It was our annual time to be measured, both in height and weight, in order to see how much we had grown in a year. My mom would pull out her spiral notebook and with pen in hand, readied herself to record the new numbers while my dad lined us up against the wall. Thankfully it was in the privacy of our home with just our parents and each other, but oh how I hated it. See, I was “blessed” with an overactive metabolism and therefore known as the “skinny girl”. No matter what or how much I ate (and I could eat a lot), weight did not stick to my thin frame. I had no problem growing vertically, however. In fact, it would not be uncommon for me to spurt up a couple of inches or more each year but gain only a pound or two, if that. By this point, my dad had to measure my height because I had outgrown my mom. My dad would jovially announce that it was “time to put a brick on her head” while I would cringe with disappointment in the lack of weight-gain. I dreamt of the year that my weight would catch up with my height and no more would I have to hear jokes and pokes regarding my slender build. I will never forget the moment when I finally topped off at 100 pounds. It was also the year that I was able to fit into a pair of jeans (junior size, nonetheless) without any safety-pin modifications or home-made length extensions. Best.Year.Ever. Now, I know what you may be thinking … “tough problem to have” … and I know that having a super-power metabolism is not the worse thing in the world. But for a skinny-minny, young teenage girl, I gladly would have given up some of my metabolism for a few extra pounds just to avoid being the target of body-image jokes and comments. (Words hurt, no matter your body size.) The annual measurement parade now takes place in my doctor’s office and my metabolism has slowed “weigh” down (oh, to have just a little bit of that back). As a new year begins, hopefully the gains and measurements that we record are ones that reflect positiveness and kindness. This year, may our cheers be louder than the jeers. And may we see and celebrate our differences with words of affirmation in order to build up instead of tear down. Let’s make this the Best.Year.Ever. And remember .... |
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