Oh yes, it's Sunday - hmmm. The Day of Rest.
I'm cooling off by penning a few thoughts about little girls with pigtails and swirly curls, little boys, and puppy dog tails.
I will wander back in my mind and think of my newest grandchild awaken to her new world. I smile just picturing that moment. Through tears of high joy, I tried to text the good news to family. Mechanical type things didn't seem quite good enought at that moment, plus I'm terrible about such things. So, I waited to call and hear the happy voices as I shared the news.
It was early Spring in Connecticut that year and Spring was slow coming. The chill of the day had no affect on my warm heart. I felt so alive, so satisfied, so assured after knowing my daughter was doing well after the surgery. I felt honored to be close to this grand celebration - couldn't wait to see the expressions on little Brooke Rebecca's brother and sister when they first saw her. If we could mount up our best moments, that would nestle near the top for me. I love answers to prayers you can hold and kiss and snuggle with.
From the warm safe waters in her mother's womb to the glare of the neat and pristine nursery was quite a journey for that little gal. Now she has travelled to see me in Oklahoma. She walks and stumbles, chats away in her own dialect, and keeps everyone on their toes as she manages to get into any and all things in view. She is adored by all, especially me and her great-grandmother, (name sake) Rebecca Ruth.
There's nothing like a refreshing, joyous memory to bless a weary soul on a hot Sunday afternoon. The heat prevails. The packing of boxes serves up all kinds of opportunities to whine and gripe. Nope. I refuse. Instead I will round up more photos and think about Brooke Rebecca.
I'm cooling off by penning a few thoughts about little girls with pigtails and swirly curls, little boys, and puppy dog tails.
I will wander back in my mind and think of my newest grandchild awaken to her new world. I smile just picturing that moment. Through tears of high joy, I tried to text the good news to family. Mechanical type things didn't seem quite good enought at that moment, plus I'm terrible about such things. So, I waited to call and hear the happy voices as I shared the news.
It was early Spring in Connecticut that year and Spring was slow coming. The chill of the day had no affect on my warm heart. I felt so alive, so satisfied, so assured after knowing my daughter was doing well after the surgery. I felt honored to be close to this grand celebration - couldn't wait to see the expressions on little Brooke Rebecca's brother and sister when they first saw her. If we could mount up our best moments, that would nestle near the top for me. I love answers to prayers you can hold and kiss and snuggle with.
From the warm safe waters in her mother's womb to the glare of the neat and pristine nursery was quite a journey for that little gal. Now she has travelled to see me in Oklahoma. She walks and stumbles, chats away in her own dialect, and keeps everyone on their toes as she manages to get into any and all things in view. She is adored by all, especially me and her great-grandmother, (name sake) Rebecca Ruth.
There's nothing like a refreshing, joyous memory to bless a weary soul on a hot Sunday afternoon. The heat prevails. The packing of boxes serves up all kinds of opportunities to whine and gripe. Nope. I refuse. Instead I will round up more photos and think about Brooke Rebecca.
