Babes

It was 1953, and I was four years old.  We had moved to Norris a little over a year before, and I was "helping" my mother paint the stairwell.  The stairs in those Norris frame homes were VERY steep (I know because I fell down them several times!)...and dark...so it wasn't an easy paint job.  Mother persevered and painted away, as I jabbered on, from my perch a step or two above her.

The conversation went something like this:

Me:  "I think you should have a baby for me!"
Mother:  "No, I don't think so.  You and Harry are enough children for Daddy and me."
Me:  "But I WANT a baby so I can hold it and play with it.  I LOVE babies!"
Mother:  "I know you do, but I think we have enough."
Me (crying, by now):  "But all your friends have babies, and I want one, too."
Mother:  "You'll just have to wait 20 years and have one of your own."

I remember it like it was yesterday.  The deep desire.  The love.  The passion for all-things-baby.

Fast-forward 17 years:  It was autumn of 1970.  And my-husband-of-just-over-a-year and I were expecting our first child!  I was the happiest girl in the world.  Finally, I was going to have a baby of my own. We were thrilled and excited, in anticipation of the blessed event.  We received our first pre-baby gifts:  a furry kitten and a quilt and pillow set which would dictate the color of the eventual nursery.  And a note from our next-door neighbor in Norris, all those years before. It read, "You have wanted a baby ever since I can remember, and now you're going to have one of your very own!" 

My reputation as a "baby-lover" went before me.  And I was not disappointed when July 25, 1971...then again January 21, 1975...came.  First, a beautiful baby boy, the spittin' image of his daddy...then a gorgeous baby girl, same size, same facial features but with a head-full of dark hair!

I have loved motherhood.  Sure, it had it challenges, and I didn't always get an "A" as a mommy.  I worried too much.  I majored on the minors at times.  I was way too emotional.  I was uptight and harsh at times.  But I loved them and tried hard, and despite me, they turned out wonderfully well.  I would change some things, as far as my mothering went,  if I could have a do-over; but I wouldn't change THEM at all.  God, in His grace, has blessed our family; we are very proud of our grown children and thank God for them.

Over the years, we have been able to share in the joy of the birth of grandchildren to our friends and family.  And now we have precious Barrett, soon to be two years old.  No one could have told me the joy he has brought.  Sure, people tried to tell me.  And I thought I knew.  I just had no idea the intensity of the love for that little one.  In a nutshell, pure joy.  Sheer love.  Unblemished, all-encompassing.  Completely unconditional.

We live far away from him, so we enjoy him with phone calls and Skype visits and those monthyly trips south.  In the meantime, I've tried to fill my role as "baby-lover" with helping with other children, occasional babysitting, mentoring (if asked!), and just doing what I can as a substitute or surrogate grandmommy.  It's part of my passion.  I believe my love for tiny ones is God-given, and if that's one way I can serve, then I'm more than willing.

Moral of story:  God gives each of us deep-down longings...passions...desires that are only from Him.  Then it's up to us to use those for His glory.  May each of us find our gifts/talents...then put them to use.  I'm thankful to Him for my love for children...and avenues in which to put legs to that love. 

God bless the babies in my life.  I'm VERY thankful for them all.