Traits and Chapter 8

If its one thing I never do…its make a New Years Resolution.

Its not out of any bah-humbug grumpiness or snobby superiority.

To be honest, I am a pretty impulsive person. If I see something that I want to do—I just go for it. A great motivator and a recipe for disaster all rolled into one inherited family trait.

Case in point, a class trip to the Miami SeaAquarium back in my early elementary school days. I raised my hand to volunteer during the big killer whale show. The trainer called on me and brought me up to the side stage next to the tank. I stood on the rubbery mat portion next to this very sun tanned, wet suit wearing trainer. I recall peering down into that blue oh so blue water and watching those whales swim back and forth. I kind of tuned out the conversation until I heard the trainer say something awesome.

“All right now. What I need for you to do today is jump in the tank.”

The audience giggled since clearly, the trainer was joking, expecting me to react with a vigorous negative head shaking or a loud exclamation of “NO WAY!”

But through the giggles came one very loud, very familiar voice….

My mother… the ever present chaperone, a permanent fixture for all school outing from pre-k to senior year of high school. Quite necessary for the preservation of my life and for the sanity of all other adults in charge of me.

She was SCREAMING one word…it had a nice echo in the dome of that amphitheater...

"Noooooooooooooooooooo!!!”

You see, the minute the trainer said the words “jump in the tank,” I was all ready bending my knees to jump in. My mind had activated imagination mode and I was all ready picturing myself in that tank, swimming with shamu and balancing on that black and white nose while riding around the tank.

Mama knows her daughter well. She knew I would literally “JUMP” on this trainer’s offer.

This story has held true for me through the years. I’d like to think that I have matured a bit in this department and have learned to “look before i leap.” Maybe I have learned a bit…but the deciding factor that pulled the reigns in on my out of control spontaneity was the answer to my mother’s prayers…my husband J.

Oh how my mother loves him.

He keeps my feet planted firmly on dry land while encouraging me to accomplish my dreams in a safe, rational, orderly way. I help him loosen up and have crazy fun when he needs it.

What a team I tell ya, what a team!

So back to the New Years Resolutions….

They are just not in keeping with my personality. I am always trying out new things so there aren’t many new things I must resolve to do.

But this year I have decided to make a resolution of sorts. (Though to be fair, its just something I am picking up and it happens to be January).

My two goals for the year:

1) Memorize Romans Chapter 8.

2) Learn to crochet in honor of my great-grandmother Meme.

Right.

The Romans 8 thing stems back to a sermon we heard at church a few years back. Our Pastor asked us, “How many verses would you have hidden in your heart if you suddenly no longer had access to a bible?” I remember blinking in surprise and thinking, “I’d be in trouble!”

How much of the word would I have hidden away to comfort me, guide me, or anchor my soul to Him
during a time of trial?

Thats where Romans 8 comes in. Have you read it?

Its the anchor.

And this year I am going to memorize it and recite what I know so far, each day at lunch. Maybe the kiddos will pick up on it too? I think if the Bear can manage to memorize a bazillion animal species he can remember the verses his Mama repeats at lunch every day.

Then there is the crochet thing.

You know I am just drowning in spare time these days.

ha!

I wanted something to do with my hands while my boys are working at their play doh or legos or lincoln logs. A mindless busy work, but still beautiful and something I can bless others with. And because...I miss my great grandmother.

I was blessed to have her in my life for 18 years. Our birthdays were two days apart and we were known to rock a shared birthday cake at a family party or two.

We did not get along too well the first 16 years since I had an affinity for lizards, dirt, pranks and daredevil schemes (see: shamu above). At least, I thought we did not get along….

Now that I am a mother, I look back and realize that while she did like to fuss and cluck at me…she really loved me.

I remember how nice she always looked. Hair like a football helmet. Not a single strand out of place. Nails always polished a nice peachy sheen. Pant suits. Lots and lots of pant suits. Clean, tidy, organized…and not afraid to party. :)

Every once in a while she would surprise me by doing something totally goofy and fun. She agreed to put on a clown costume one year for halloween, suggested by my mom at the last minute. Five minutes before we were to walk out the door and into the neighborhood, she agrees and dons this hideous polyester footie pajama. It came with a metallic wig.

METALLIC.

16 years of that sort of thing. Super organized, predictable day to day order and then...the unexpected element that would put the great in "great grandma!"

She suffered a stroke and was blind the last two years of her life. I used to jokingly say to her that she liked me better when she couldn’t see how untidy and messy I was. Because we were quite suddenly, inexplicably closer than ever. A light turned on in the darkness.

During junior year of high school I would drive an extra thirty minutes out of my way after school to the nursing home just so I could hold her hand and listen to her talk.

I learned so much about her that last year. She told me a few stories she had never shared with anyone else. I don’t know why she chose to tell me of all people…but I am glad she did.

Yeah, she loved me a lot.

I loved her too.

Have I mentioned yet that she was the craftiest person ever?

She knew how to sew and knit and crochet. She would make such beautiful things. I used to love to watch her work. She made a pair of little snowmen once for my mom for Christmas. I used to hold them every year when we took them out of storage and run my fingers over the loops and hooks.

After she died I would run my finger over those loops and feel a bit closer to her.

So in her honor, I am picking up that heavy crochet needle and learning this new art.  If I can make three things before the year is out, I’ll consider it a success.

Hand in hand with this learning of a new code and a new rhythm, I want to tell my boys all the stories I know about Meme.

So that when they run their hands over each loop and hook of my handiwork, they will remember her. Stories about their blue eyed great great grandmother, the rigidly organized party animal who would surprise her family with something zany from time to time.

Hmmm…you could almost call her occasionally spontaneous?? :)

Happy New Year.