Friday, August 15, 2014
Friday, May 30, 2014
Appreciate it More
Today after an especially difficult day of being an adult, I was reminiscing about my childhood, and I realized I should have appreciated it more. We don't do that though, because we are always looking at the next step, the next experience, the next phase as the one we will enjoy the most.
When I was a child, I thought being a teenager was the end all. Then I was a teenager and I thought being an adult was the cat's meow. Then I was an adult and I thought marriage and children was where it was at. Then I was married, and had children, and I thought retirement and an empty nest would be perfection, because marriage and children is just some hard stuff.
What I didn't know to appreciate about my childhood was the easiness of what I thought was so hard. I didn't appreciate my three younger cousins who bounded into my house on a Saturday morning. I didn't appreciate their eagerness to spend time with me. I didn't appreciate hearing my mom say, "Go wake her up, she won't mind." I didn't appreciate hearing three sets of pounding feet, and little voices calling, "Dee Da, wake up! Come ride bikes with us." I didn't appreciate the novelty of roller skates, and skate keys around my neck on a string. I didn't appreciate the freedom of hopping on a bike and riding in the big barn. I didn't appreciate the moment of childhood.
I loved skating and riding bikes, and making mud pies. I loved reading Sam the Mouse and Joe the Bear, and Little Miss Suzy, and Professor Diggins Dragon. I loved playing with my cousins, and swimming on hot summer days. I loved all of that, I just didn't appreciate it like I should have, because I didn't know to appreciate it.
I didn't appreciate my childhood, my teenage years, my early years of marriage, and having children as much as I should have, because I didn't know that middle age, and failing health, and aging parents, and aunts and uncles, would mean making very tough decisions. How could I know? They were strong, I was young, and we were all busy living life, not appreciating the moments.
Today, today I am learning to appreciate the moments, and to be thankful for the memories of what was, because those moments that I didn't know how to appreciate are what has made me strong enough for today. I don't feel strong enough for todays moments. In fact, I feel so very weak.
I don't like hearing things like, advanced directives, be prepared, be realistic, home health care, assisted living, nursing homes and hospice. I don't like hearing about them, I don't like thinking about them, I don't like talking about them, I don't like explaining them. I don't like the moments of today! Like it or not, here I am.
I found myself saying, in all selfishness and self pity....why me? I then realized I should be asking, why him? It's not about me. It's not about how weak, or how sad, or how angry, or how unfair I feel it all is. It's about how it is for Uncle Albert. It's about his care, his comfort, his dignity. It's about helping him deal with what is in the moment for him.
So, I thought of roller skates, and skate keys, and bikes, and summer time, and all the joys of childhood, and now after all these years, I can appreciate what my childhood was. Maybe, just maybe, ten years from now I will look back at what this time in my life was, and appreciate the experience, and the lessons learned. Maybe.....
When I was a child, I thought being a teenager was the end all. Then I was a teenager and I thought being an adult was the cat's meow. Then I was an adult and I thought marriage and children was where it was at. Then I was married, and had children, and I thought retirement and an empty nest would be perfection, because marriage and children is just some hard stuff.
What I didn't know to appreciate about my childhood was the easiness of what I thought was so hard. I didn't appreciate my three younger cousins who bounded into my house on a Saturday morning. I didn't appreciate their eagerness to spend time with me. I didn't appreciate hearing my mom say, "Go wake her up, she won't mind." I didn't appreciate hearing three sets of pounding feet, and little voices calling, "Dee Da, wake up! Come ride bikes with us." I didn't appreciate the novelty of roller skates, and skate keys around my neck on a string. I didn't appreciate the freedom of hopping on a bike and riding in the big barn. I didn't appreciate the moment of childhood.
I loved skating and riding bikes, and making mud pies. I loved reading Sam the Mouse and Joe the Bear, and Little Miss Suzy, and Professor Diggins Dragon. I loved playing with my cousins, and swimming on hot summer days. I loved all of that, I just didn't appreciate it like I should have, because I didn't know to appreciate it.
I didn't appreciate my childhood, my teenage years, my early years of marriage, and having children as much as I should have, because I didn't know that middle age, and failing health, and aging parents, and aunts and uncles, would mean making very tough decisions. How could I know? They were strong, I was young, and we were all busy living life, not appreciating the moments.
Today, today I am learning to appreciate the moments, and to be thankful for the memories of what was, because those moments that I didn't know how to appreciate are what has made me strong enough for today. I don't feel strong enough for todays moments. In fact, I feel so very weak.
I don't like hearing things like, advanced directives, be prepared, be realistic, home health care, assisted living, nursing homes and hospice. I don't like hearing about them, I don't like thinking about them, I don't like talking about them, I don't like explaining them. I don't like the moments of today! Like it or not, here I am.
I found myself saying, in all selfishness and self pity....why me? I then realized I should be asking, why him? It's not about me. It's not about how weak, or how sad, or how angry, or how unfair I feel it all is. It's about how it is for Uncle Albert. It's about his care, his comfort, his dignity. It's about helping him deal with what is in the moment for him.
So, I thought of roller skates, and skate keys, and bikes, and summer time, and all the joys of childhood, and now after all these years, I can appreciate what my childhood was. Maybe, just maybe, ten years from now I will look back at what this time in my life was, and appreciate the experience, and the lessons learned. Maybe.....
Friday, February 7, 2014
Bike Ramps
Bike ramps are the best, and all children at some time in their life, must ride their bike over a ramp and experience the thrill of flying through the air. I jumped my bike off a ramp many a times. It's a thrill to fly through the air, bike and child, it's a lift off!
So, when my youngest child, Jacob, asked me to build him a bike ramp, I was all for that. We had the perfect sloped yard, and he could really get up to speed, and fly...fly...fly through the air, him and his bike. Together we found some plywood and a cinder block, and the ramp was made.
He told me he had jumped his bike off a ramp at his cousins house, so I didn't really give much thought to telling him how it was done. After all, he had done it before, so for me to give him instructions would have only made him mad.
He hopped on his bike, peddled up the yard, and prepared for lift off. I stood off to the side waiting for the show. I knew it would be great, I just didn't know how great. Off he goes. Peddling for all he was worth. I thought, "He is really going to fly." He would have, he really would have, and it would have been a great lift off....if only he had known to lift the handle bars when the front wheel cleared the edge of the ramp. I thought he knew!
It was a great flight, just not the flight he had anticipated, or the flight I expected. He flew through the air, and then he plowed the ground with his nose. When his plowing crash was complete, he jumped up and yelled at me, "DO NOT LAUGH!" Hmmm, now why would he say something like that? I said, "I won't." Then I quickly made my way to the house and laughed and laughed and laughed. When I could go back out without laughing, I went back to suggest that the next time he lift the handlebars to prevent the front tire from dropping off the edge of the ramp, which caused him to be propelled across the yard, and land on his face.
Whatever, he was not interested in my, too little, too late advice.
So, when my youngest child, Jacob, asked me to build him a bike ramp, I was all for that. We had the perfect sloped yard, and he could really get up to speed, and fly...fly...fly through the air, him and his bike. Together we found some plywood and a cinder block, and the ramp was made.
He told me he had jumped his bike off a ramp at his cousins house, so I didn't really give much thought to telling him how it was done. After all, he had done it before, so for me to give him instructions would have only made him mad.
He hopped on his bike, peddled up the yard, and prepared for lift off. I stood off to the side waiting for the show. I knew it would be great, I just didn't know how great. Off he goes. Peddling for all he was worth. I thought, "He is really going to fly." He would have, he really would have, and it would have been a great lift off....if only he had known to lift the handle bars when the front wheel cleared the edge of the ramp. I thought he knew!
It was a great flight, just not the flight he had anticipated, or the flight I expected. He flew through the air, and then he plowed the ground with his nose. When his plowing crash was complete, he jumped up and yelled at me, "DO NOT LAUGH!" Hmmm, now why would he say something like that? I said, "I won't." Then I quickly made my way to the house and laughed and laughed and laughed. When I could go back out without laughing, I went back to suggest that the next time he lift the handlebars to prevent the front tire from dropping off the edge of the ramp, which caused him to be propelled across the yard, and land on his face.
Whatever, he was not interested in my, too little, too late advice.
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Uncle Carroll
It seems to really appreciate life, we have to live it, experience it, and then look back on it with gratitude for all that was, because it made us who we are. I often think about my life, and feel thankful for every person that has been a part of it. Not all the people that have come into my life, are still a part of it. Some by my choosing, some just by being a casual acquaintance, some by death, and some by simply not caring enough to know me. In some way, each one of them have touched me, helped me to grow, made me thankful for those who are still in my life.
There's a man that has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. He came into my life by marrying my Aunt Mary, and he has been an anchor to me through the storms of life. He has cheered me on, chastened me, guided me, laughed with me, cried with, and stood by me. When I was two years old, my mom became very ill, was in a coma, and as would be obvious, was not able to care for my brother and I. Aunt Mary and Uncle Carroll were newly married, but they took my brother and I into their home. They opened their hearts, they cared for us as if we were there own. Not many men would be willing to do that, but Uncle Carroll did. He has opened his heart, and his home to me many times since, and has been a father to me, when my own chose not to be.
When my mom, brother and I needed a place to live, Uncle Carroll provided that for us. When the car wouldn't start, he came over to help. When we were running low on groceries, they often were too, and so along would come Uncle Carroll with a soup bone, and ask mom to make us all soup. It's always good to share the little, so a lot can be made.
We share a love of photography, so we would often discuss cameras, lens, angles, lighting, subjects. He was always much better with landscape, and abstract. He knew the best settings for the best lighting. I loved, and still do love, to take pictures of people. While I envied his ability to capture the perfect landscape shot, he would often tell me he wished he could capture people the way I could.
When I am with him, we talk about all kinds of things. We talk about the bible, what we believe, why we believe it. We talk about our families, raising children, and loving grandchildren. We talk about things we did, things we wish we had done, things we wish we hadn't done, and things we might do. We talk about books we have read, places we have been, and people that we have met along the way. We discuss politics, and world events. We talk about a lot of things, and sometimes we just spend the day being quiet.
Anyone who knows Uncle Carroll, knows and appreciates his wit, his ability to come up with a funny quip, a great story, and make us all laugh. I often regret not keeping a journal of his many funny quips, and awesome stories. Some we will never forget, and some we wish we could remember. His funny jokes, his hilarious speeches, and the all time favorite....the lost patrol.
It is unfortunate that Parkinsons Disease has become an uninvited guest in his life. It's a cruel and unwelcome guest, but even with that, Uncle Carroll has been strong. He has not lost his sense of humor, his gratitude for Aunt Mary, and her care for him. He still tells stories, remembers traveling to foreign lands, thinks of people who have been in his life, and does not whine.
I have the privilege of spending at least one day a week with him, and I look forward to those days. He usually has a story to share about his life, about something that happened, some place he traveled, and it's always interesting. Some days are not good days for him, and so we just get through the day. I feel honored that I get to repay him, though very small in measure, for all the care he has given me through the years. He thanks me for helping him, but I feel like I should be thanking him.
The other day I was there with him, and as I walked through the kitchen I noticed a list on the counter. It was a list of all the things that Aunt Mary does for him throughout the day. A list of all the things he appreciates that she does. I read the list and was reminded that we all need to be thankful for each person in our life, and for all that they do, from the little things that don't seem so important, to big things that are obvious.
Uncle Carroll has taught me many things in my life, but the most important thing he has taught me, is the example of living for others, and being thankful for what I have.
I love him very much, and I'm thankful for each opportunity to be with him.
There's a man that has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. He came into my life by marrying my Aunt Mary, and he has been an anchor to me through the storms of life. He has cheered me on, chastened me, guided me, laughed with me, cried with, and stood by me. When I was two years old, my mom became very ill, was in a coma, and as would be obvious, was not able to care for my brother and I. Aunt Mary and Uncle Carroll were newly married, but they took my brother and I into their home. They opened their hearts, they cared for us as if we were there own. Not many men would be willing to do that, but Uncle Carroll did. He has opened his heart, and his home to me many times since, and has been a father to me, when my own chose not to be.
When my mom, brother and I needed a place to live, Uncle Carroll provided that for us. When the car wouldn't start, he came over to help. When we were running low on groceries, they often were too, and so along would come Uncle Carroll with a soup bone, and ask mom to make us all soup. It's always good to share the little, so a lot can be made.
We share a love of photography, so we would often discuss cameras, lens, angles, lighting, subjects. He was always much better with landscape, and abstract. He knew the best settings for the best lighting. I loved, and still do love, to take pictures of people. While I envied his ability to capture the perfect landscape shot, he would often tell me he wished he could capture people the way I could.
When I am with him, we talk about all kinds of things. We talk about the bible, what we believe, why we believe it. We talk about our families, raising children, and loving grandchildren. We talk about things we did, things we wish we had done, things we wish we hadn't done, and things we might do. We talk about books we have read, places we have been, and people that we have met along the way. We discuss politics, and world events. We talk about a lot of things, and sometimes we just spend the day being quiet.
Anyone who knows Uncle Carroll, knows and appreciates his wit, his ability to come up with a funny quip, a great story, and make us all laugh. I often regret not keeping a journal of his many funny quips, and awesome stories. Some we will never forget, and some we wish we could remember. His funny jokes, his hilarious speeches, and the all time favorite....the lost patrol.
It is unfortunate that Parkinsons Disease has become an uninvited guest in his life. It's a cruel and unwelcome guest, but even with that, Uncle Carroll has been strong. He has not lost his sense of humor, his gratitude for Aunt Mary, and her care for him. He still tells stories, remembers traveling to foreign lands, thinks of people who have been in his life, and does not whine.
I have the privilege of spending at least one day a week with him, and I look forward to those days. He usually has a story to share about his life, about something that happened, some place he traveled, and it's always interesting. Some days are not good days for him, and so we just get through the day. I feel honored that I get to repay him, though very small in measure, for all the care he has given me through the years. He thanks me for helping him, but I feel like I should be thanking him.
The other day I was there with him, and as I walked through the kitchen I noticed a list on the counter. It was a list of all the things that Aunt Mary does for him throughout the day. A list of all the things he appreciates that she does. I read the list and was reminded that we all need to be thankful for each person in our life, and for all that they do, from the little things that don't seem so important, to big things that are obvious.
Uncle Carroll has taught me many things in my life, but the most important thing he has taught me, is the example of living for others, and being thankful for what I have.
I love him very much, and I'm thankful for each opportunity to be with him.
Thursday, January 9, 2014
GRIEF
Grief comes to all of us as we live life, and when it comes, it feels like an unwanted, uninvited guest. We all have to learn how to cope with grief, and each one of us have a different way of coping, none of them right or wrong, just how we cope.
I found this definition of grief, and felt it explained how I have felt since hearing of my friend, Bernice Bassett Trumper's passing.
What is Grief?
Grief is the internal part of loss, how we feel. The internal work of grief is a process, a journey. It does not end on a certain day or date. It is as individual as each of us. Grief is real because loss is real. Each grief has its own imprint, as distinctive and as unique as the person we lost. The pain of loss is so intense, so heartbreaking, because in loving we deeply connect with another human being, and grief is the reflection of the connection that has been lost.
Tomorrow we will all gather to say our goodbyes, and it will not be easy. A life so young, so much ahead for her, for her family. I've felt guilty for the amount of grief that I have felt, because I feel, who am I to feel this much pain in losing her, when her husband and daughters loved her to an extent I will never know. Maybe guilty is not the right word, but I can't think of another word to use. In all the years I've known Bernice, been friends with her, I didn't know her the way her family did. Yes, I will miss her. I will miss our chance meetings here in the community where we both grew up in. I will miss my Facebook chats with her. I will miss her quiet, unassuming, gentle way. I will miss her laugh, I will miss her smile, but I will never miss her like her family will. I think that is where my feelings of guilt, or whatever the appropriate word may be, come from.
I can say this, my grief is real. I will go on with life, and I will often think of her, but for her family, every day, every birthday, anniversary, event and holiday without her, will be a fresh reminder of their loss. So while I feel grief at the loss of a friend, I don't want to forget the magnitude of their loss, a loss they will feel forever. I hope the reflection of my grief, will be a reflection of the love I felt for their wife, mother, and sister.
I found this definition of grief, and felt it explained how I have felt since hearing of my friend, Bernice Bassett Trumper's passing.
What is Grief?
Grief is the internal part of loss, how we feel. The internal work of grief is a process, a journey. It does not end on a certain day or date. It is as individual as each of us. Grief is real because loss is real. Each grief has its own imprint, as distinctive and as unique as the person we lost. The pain of loss is so intense, so heartbreaking, because in loving we deeply connect with another human being, and grief is the reflection of the connection that has been lost.
Tomorrow we will all gather to say our goodbyes, and it will not be easy. A life so young, so much ahead for her, for her family. I've felt guilty for the amount of grief that I have felt, because I feel, who am I to feel this much pain in losing her, when her husband and daughters loved her to an extent I will never know. Maybe guilty is not the right word, but I can't think of another word to use. In all the years I've known Bernice, been friends with her, I didn't know her the way her family did. Yes, I will miss her. I will miss our chance meetings here in the community where we both grew up in. I will miss my Facebook chats with her. I will miss her quiet, unassuming, gentle way. I will miss her laugh, I will miss her smile, but I will never miss her like her family will. I think that is where my feelings of guilt, or whatever the appropriate word may be, come from.
I can say this, my grief is real. I will go on with life, and I will often think of her, but for her family, every day, every birthday, anniversary, event and holiday without her, will be a fresh reminder of their loss. So while I feel grief at the loss of a friend, I don't want to forget the magnitude of their loss, a loss they will feel forever. I hope the reflection of my grief, will be a reflection of the love I felt for their wife, mother, and sister.
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
Oh Comcast
Yesterday we had no internet service. That's akin to no life line, but we managed until the tech showed up this afternoon to reconnect us to the wide, wide world of internet again. I must say the experience dealing with Comcast was less than pleasant.
When Paul got home yesterday and discovered there was no internet, he did what all married men do....call the wife! I didn't have my magic wand with me, and it wasn't at home, so he had to call Comcast. Needless to say....it didn't go well, because the automated system automatically increases the callers blood pressure, which makes all systems related kick into angry overdrive.
After much button pushing, yelling into the phone, etc., we had a tech scheduled to arrive here today between 1 and 5. At midnight last night, my cell phone rang. Now I doubt anyone hears their phone ring at midnight and thinks, "Hmm, that must be Comcast calling to confirm the tech's arrival tomorrow between 1pm and 5pm." NO! The average person hears their phone ring at midnight and wonders what is wrong with one of the kids, or did that ailing relative die, or........something other than COMCAST calling.
I answered the phone to hear the automated system, with instructions to press 1 for something, 2 for something else, and 3 for something else. I hung up the phone. At 6:30 this morning, the phone rang. What now? I wondered if Julie got stuck in a snow drift. NOPE, it's Comcast again! Same automated system, so I punched all the right numbers, and low and behold a living person came on the line. I'm sure she regretted the connection, because I told her what I thought of calls from their automated system at midnight, and again at 6:30, and I had already confirmed the appt three times, not to mention that Paul had confirmed it as well!
Thirty minutes later the phone rang. Yep, you guessed it....the automated system wanting me to confirm the appt. I called back, punched in the many, many buttons, and connected to a person who spoke broken English at best. I told her that they needed to work on their automated system, and make sure it wasn't calling customers at midnight. She said, "Ma'am, I am noting on your account that you do not want the automated system to call you in the wee hours of the morning." I wish I wasn't quoting that word for word, but I am. THEN, then she had the nerve to tell me that I could have signed onto my account at www.comcast.net and confirmed the appointment there. I hung up!
Thirty minutes later.....sure enough, the automated system, and each time you are asked if you would like to complete a brief survey after the call. Oh my! They do not want to hear what I would say. I called again, and once again, I pressed one (if your first born is blond and lives in the USA). I pressed two, (if your middle child has blue eyes), and I pressed three when asked if I had ever considered blowing up an automated phone system, and then I heard........Your call cannot be completed as dialed. If you feel you have reached this message in error, please hang up and try your call again. KABOOM!
I called back, and after all the button pushing, and frustration, I connected with a live being, and of course, she spoke very broken English as well. I told her that I had already confirmed the appt more than once, and how about 7 times, and surely they had that in their system now, and would she please make sure the tech didn't show up before 1pm, because I would not be home. Of course, it was all noted in my account.
At 11:30 I rec'd a phone call from the Comcast tech, and he would be at my house in ten minutes. Noted on my account, huh? In which language, and which account? I told him I wasn't home, would not be home until 1pm. He graciously said he would come back. Lucky for him, he was a nice guy! He reconnected us, replaced the broken equipment, and went on his way. Happy Thanksgiving, and all that jazz.
Oh wouldn't you know it. Comcast just called wanting to know how I would rate my experience with the service provided. I can't answer that by pushing buttons. I just can't!
I'm thinking about calling the automated system back and seeing if I can wreak havoc with it.
When Paul got home yesterday and discovered there was no internet, he did what all married men do....call the wife! I didn't have my magic wand with me, and it wasn't at home, so he had to call Comcast. Needless to say....it didn't go well, because the automated system automatically increases the callers blood pressure, which makes all systems related kick into angry overdrive.
After much button pushing, yelling into the phone, etc., we had a tech scheduled to arrive here today between 1 and 5. At midnight last night, my cell phone rang. Now I doubt anyone hears their phone ring at midnight and thinks, "Hmm, that must be Comcast calling to confirm the tech's arrival tomorrow between 1pm and 5pm." NO! The average person hears their phone ring at midnight and wonders what is wrong with one of the kids, or did that ailing relative die, or........something other than COMCAST calling.
I answered the phone to hear the automated system, with instructions to press 1 for something, 2 for something else, and 3 for something else. I hung up the phone. At 6:30 this morning, the phone rang. What now? I wondered if Julie got stuck in a snow drift. NOPE, it's Comcast again! Same automated system, so I punched all the right numbers, and low and behold a living person came on the line. I'm sure she regretted the connection, because I told her what I thought of calls from their automated system at midnight, and again at 6:30, and I had already confirmed the appt three times, not to mention that Paul had confirmed it as well!
Thirty minutes later the phone rang. Yep, you guessed it....the automated system wanting me to confirm the appt. I called back, punched in the many, many buttons, and connected to a person who spoke broken English at best. I told her that they needed to work on their automated system, and make sure it wasn't calling customers at midnight. She said, "Ma'am, I am noting on your account that you do not want the automated system to call you in the wee hours of the morning." I wish I wasn't quoting that word for word, but I am. THEN, then she had the nerve to tell me that I could have signed onto my account at www.comcast.net and confirmed the appointment there. I hung up!
Thirty minutes later.....sure enough, the automated system, and each time you are asked if you would like to complete a brief survey after the call. Oh my! They do not want to hear what I would say. I called again, and once again, I pressed one (if your first born is blond and lives in the USA). I pressed two, (if your middle child has blue eyes), and I pressed three when asked if I had ever considered blowing up an automated phone system, and then I heard........Your call cannot be completed as dialed. If you feel you have reached this message in error, please hang up and try your call again. KABOOM!
I called back, and after all the button pushing, and frustration, I connected with a live being, and of course, she spoke very broken English as well. I told her that I had already confirmed the appt more than once, and how about 7 times, and surely they had that in their system now, and would she please make sure the tech didn't show up before 1pm, because I would not be home. Of course, it was all noted in my account.
At 11:30 I rec'd a phone call from the Comcast tech, and he would be at my house in ten minutes. Noted on my account, huh? In which language, and which account? I told him I wasn't home, would not be home until 1pm. He graciously said he would come back. Lucky for him, he was a nice guy! He reconnected us, replaced the broken equipment, and went on his way. Happy Thanksgiving, and all that jazz.
Oh wouldn't you know it. Comcast just called wanting to know how I would rate my experience with the service provided. I can't answer that by pushing buttons. I just can't!
I'm thinking about calling the automated system back and seeing if I can wreak havoc with it.
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Mothers
If there were a way to measure love, think of the explosive measurement that would result from the first time a mother holds her newborn baby. It's a love that is immeasurable. It's also a love that is indescribable. It's just there. It's powerful, it's explosive, and it's forever.
When we hold our babies for the first time, it's a feeling that will stay with us forever. We gaze into those squinty little eyes, and we are lost forever. It doesn't matter if the baby is the ugliest human ever born, it's a beautiful baby to it's mother.
We have no idea of what lies ahead, we just know we love. We know we will always love, and that's all we think of at the time. It's good that's all we can think of at the time. If we could see the future, we could not enjoy the present.
The future often holds things for us, and for that baby, who will become an adult, that we could not cope with, if we knew what was ahead. Life trains us, even though we think it doesn't, it trains us for those moments in time that if we knew were coming, we would just give up. When those days come, and we are living them, we often think we will not survive them, but we do. We survive them because we loved that baby from the moment we first held them, and we will love them until forever. We don't have to like what they do, or the choices that they make, or the trials they put us though, but we will always love them.
The love of a mother is powerful. A mother would rather die herself, than to lose her child in death. A mother would rather take on all of her child's pain, than to see her child suffer. For a mother to practice tough love is costly. Mothers heal, mothers fix, mothers kiss and make things better, and when a mother can't heal, or fix, or kiss away the pain, it's costly to the mother.
A mother's love cannot be measured on any scale made by man. For all those who have a mom, a mom who loves them, just understand, she will always love you, even when she doesn't like you, she will love you. When she makes you furious, or you make her furious, you feel like you can't understand her, or she doesn't understand you, you feel like she is too involved, just know this, she loves you. She loves you without measure, because that's what a mother's love is. A love without measure.
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