Fridays at First Day: Valentine's Day Vow

Valentine’s Day Vow

Ah, Valentine’s Day. A day devoted to expensive dinners and cheap carnations, boxes full of chocolate and words empty of true intention. And love. Ah, love. The most meaningful decision I have ever made is to love others. So today’s holiday? I could obviously take it or leave it. But I am serious about love.

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Groovy Grace

I stood staring out the small powder room window at our backyard, where I first met her.  The door was open and my back was to the rest of the house and, more importantly, my two little girls from whom I was attempting to hide.  Why I continue to think I will successfully evade my children in the bathroom is beyond me.  In less than a minute, my three year old was at my side.  I looked down at her, ashamed she would see my tears; that I was crying over this.

"Mommy, why are you sad?"

"Well, honey, I am sad that we have to give Kitty away; that we can't keep her."

"Mommy, it's OK, " she assured me calmly, stroking my arm.  "We already have a pet.  We have Ben."

Ben, our 80-pound, adopted, Akita mix is literally the perfect family dog.  He only barks at new faces on the porch, lets the girls climb on him, prefers to relax over run, and never eats anything he is not supposed to.  His one fault is that he sheds approximately half of his body weight in fur each year, give or take.  We forgive him this, though I am not sure all of our guests do.   

But Kitty, the 2-pound, seven week old, gray kitten I found in our backyard two weeks before this was my dream pet come true.  Ever since I was a little girl I wanted a tiny, gray kitten of my very own.  While I deeply loved and cared for the hamsters and gerbils I had growing up, they clearly did not come close to Kitty.  My father is allergic to cats and, as luck would have it, my husband is as well.  And, yes, okay, fine, I admit it, I break out in hives when I hold a cat and am part of the reason she had to go, too.

The afternoon I found Kitty, I simply placed her in Ben's old crate on the back deck assuming I would drive her to a nearby shelter after my husband got home.  Silly Kristin.  After calling more than 12 rescues, shelters and volunteer groups I learned that no one in my area had room for any more cats.  The Feline Rescue Association told me, "You are this kitten's best bet."

Well, that was it.  My random afternoon meeting turned into a four-week, three-vet trip adventure, of which I enthusiastically enjoyed every minute.  I quickly became convinced that no one could care for her like I could.  I rescued her!  I saved her life!  So, I nursed her (with her worms, and her parasite, and her feline chewing louse, and her infected eye) back to health!  Kitty became my project.  She was mine.

And then she wasn't.  I am grateful that we found a home for her.  I am grateful it was with a family that we knew through friends.  I am grateful that they still send me pictures and that she is growing and thriving.  They named her Grace and I am grateful she graced me with her presence.  Thank you, God.  You work in such groovy ways. 

When Death Brought New Meaning to Life

I couldn't decide if I should tell him even though it was possible this might be my last chance.  I remained silent for the moment, methodically chewing each fruit snack I chose from the small pouch I shared with my sister.  Ever since I found out I was pregnant, I was having the weirdest cravings.  This one, no doubt, was inspired by my 18-month old's snack shelf.

If this were his first great-grandchild I would definitely tell him.  I would want him to know that his legacy would live on beyond the three women currently in his hospital room.  My sister and I watched our mother fumble to find an outlet in which to plug her father's electric razor.   

I watched my grandfather slowly run it over his face.  I didn't want to upset him by telling him.  Of course, the pregnancy was happy news, but I was worried it would only make him sad.  He would have to know he would never meet the baby growing inside of me.

He soon grew tired of holding up his arm to shave.  As my mom took over my cell phone rang.  More worried about breaking hospital policy than receiving the call, I dove into my bag for the device.  As I silenced it, I noticed it was my mother-in-law's number.  These days we talk regularly on the phone, but that day I knew it was important that I answer.

"Hello?" I whispered as I headed for the hallway.

"Kristin, it's Bette Rae.  I can't get a hold of Zach so I called you."

"Yeah, he left his phone charger in..."

"Kristin.  Liz died this morning in a car accident.  Bill and I are on our way to Kentucky right now."

I literally slid my back against the wall and sat down hard on the linoleum.  After a brief back and forth with Bette Rae, the tears came quickly.  I clutched the cell in my right hand and my bag against my chest with my left right there on the hospital floor.  I glanced down to the nurses station fully aware that my silent sobs would draw attention if someone saw.  No one was there.

I twisted my posture to peer back into Papa's room.  I wouldn't tell him about this either.  I made eye contact with my sister and she was quickly by my side. 

Two days later, Zach flew alone to Kentucky to sit with family and say goodbye to our 19 year-old niece.  He said he felt a peace.

Two days after that, I drove alone to the hospice to sit with family and watch for death to call our 83 year-old grandfather.   He was finally at peace.   

We did not name our new daughter after either Papa or Liz.  That is a burden too great for a baby.  She is a blessing just as she is.  Though neither Papa nor Liz knew she was to come those who mourned them did.  Of course, she is not a remedy or a replacement, but I have to think sharing the news of her brought some peace.            

Big Christmas Buts

In the same way that the scent of cinnamon may remind you of your grandmother who always chewed Big Red and the rough rub of corduroy may remind you of your sofa back home, upholding certain traditions can conjure feelings of comfort and security.  For most people, December is flush with ritual.  This is a good thing, until it is not.

Christmas is alive.  It does not matter whether you and yours are celebrating the birth of a baby this time of year.  Yes, God is alive, but so is much else around us.  Families are alive.  Creation is alive.  Love is alive.  Traditions, however, are not.  Traditions are not the reason to celebrate.  We should celebrate for the sake of love, the beauty of nature, our families and the One who holds this all together.

Therefore, some traditions must die.  There should be no more "buts" at Christmas.

But, my parents did it this way growing up.

But, we never get a Douglas Fir.

But, that's not really a Christmas song.

But, photo cards are tacky.

But, we always have an 11 pm service.

But, Aunt Elsie expects fruitcake.

But, we always host dinner here.

Families grow.  The landscape around us evolves.  Love whithers and then blossoms anew.  Our holiday traditions should too.