Fire Flew From His Finger Tips

This story is dedicated to my precious Uncle and Aunt, Joe and Greta Daniel. And to Jeff, my love.

An ordinary working man with extraordinary strength ends his day in profound sleep. His wife jealous. How does he hit the pillow and fall into a snoring paralysis so readily? The answer is well known, he is tired. He labors long in the day, he is called upon by others to do the heavy work. His size and strength like that of two men. His body well suited to a labor intensive job. He relies on his brawn and quick reflexes. He is his is work. He sleeps well.
An ordinary man with four decades of birthdays under his belt ends his day asleep on the couch. His wife wakes him to go to bed. How does he sleep so soundly with household noises demanding attention? He is tired, he was tired before he left for work. He does the work of two men. He is his work and more now. He is father, coach, athlete, husband, homeowner, and his job. He sleeps well.
An ordinary man with extraordinary ill health ends his day early. His sleep is elusive, no longer assured. He is tired. His wife wonders how to help. His joints have stolen his strength. His heart has slowed his reflexes. The work he did belongs to two men now. He no longer knows who he is. He sleeps a lot but not well.
An ordinary man with more than a half a century of experience behind him and a story that is about to change.
The crowd filtered in, greeting each other as only those who have known each other a life time can. You could pick out the strangers, the furtive glances for a place to sit not wanting to take the place of those who belonged. A Sunday night church concert about to begin. The featured group a family of southern gospel singers. Their family led by the patriarch, a man confined to a wheel chair by childhood polio is assisted onto the elevated stage by two men. The father is joined on the stage by his two sons and a daughter-in-law. Blaine is among the strangers in the crowd, his wife sits by his side.
The father tells the story of his struggle and triumph living with polio. They sing “I Am So Blessed.”
*He turned sleepless nights into sweet rest I’ll always be grateful; I am so blessed.
Blaine sits up straighter, his wife squeezes his hand. A few more spirit filled songs later and the eldest son gives a word to the crowd. The word moves through each person, we are sitting in the presence of God. The son begins to pray. Hands are stretched out in prayer. Blaine tentatively reaches out with his hand. Electricity finds its way into Blaine’s finger tips. He is no longer ordinary. The Holy Spirit has surrounded Blaine, filled him with peace. He knows that night that his burden is taken by God.
*I took forgiveness, He took the nails.
The night that fire flew from his finger tips Blaine found the answer. He sleeps well now most nights. His wife is content. Whatever this life has for Blaine he is not alone. He has done the work of two men but he is not his work. He is Blaine, child of God, filled with the Holy Spirit, full of Grace through the sacrifice of his Savior. Surely this is enough for one ordinary man.

*Words in italics are lyrics by the Southern Gospel group, The Browders

Too Many Living Generations?

I am daughter, mother and grandmother. That means my grandchildren have great-grandparents. Not only that but they have fairly active and healthy great-grandparents. For our family this is uncharted territory. My mom and I have no idea what our roles should be. Or better stated, we disagree about what our roles should be.
The mother/daughter thing is well established. We do not have a perfect relationship but we have found our way. I am an only child and my mom was a single parent. She had all her eggs in one basket so to speak. She worked a lot and I developed some independence. I married young so my independence was established as my mother was against the marriage. Nine months after my marriage I had a baby girl. Over the next 8 years I had two more daughters. My mom fell into the role of grandmother with ease. She doted. The grand-girls worshiped her.
Just shy of my tenth wedding anniversary my mother married for the second time. For the first time ever, my girls had the possibility of a real grandfather. He gladly accepted the role and we became a “regular” family. We had no fights over holidays, it was just us and them. My kids were the only grand-kids. My mom and step-dad were the only grandparents.
My parents just celebrated their 24th anniversary and my husband and I will celebrate our 34th next month. Our family has grown to include two son-in-laws and five grandchildren. Four of the grandchildren have other grandparents and one even has other great-grandparents. I have eggs in many baskets and feel happy about it. My poor mom does not like her eggs scattered at all.
Holidays are now a bit of a disaster. Other in-law grandparent and great-grandparents aside, my mom and I struggle over our roles. I don’t want to see her cast aside, but I want to be the grandmother! I want to have the sleep overs and show them how to cook and crochet. I want to teach them the names of birds and herbs and all the other things my grandmother taught me when my mom was working and my mom taught my children when I was too busy working and making ends meet. Trouble is my mom wants to teach my grandchildren too. Holidays were always at my grandmother’s house when I was a child. When my kids came along holidays were always at my mom’s house, (sadly my own grandmother passed when my oldest was four, my second was two and my third was as they say, “a twinkle in her daddy’s eye”). Now we have to decide, will I host or will my mom. My inclination is to let my daughters take turns hosting! My mom leans towards tradition.
I have to share with in-laws and my mom! What? Only child in me says uh-huh, it’s my turn. Cool me says, ah there is enough to go around. Maybe we just can’t all be together on holidays. Other families are used to this. I can get used to it too. Trouble is, my mom can’t seem to get used to it. She never had to share. And she still has things to teach, she is still vibrant and full of energy. Aren’t my grandchildren lucky? They have so many “oldies” to hang out with to learn from, to show off for, to be loved by. If only I can help my mom see this. This is my role to be both grandmother and daughter. I’m on my knees now. Guidance will come, right?

Mama

A balloon with strings attached to your heart.
She lifts you up and tugs you back.
A string named guilt,
A balloon named pride.
One sharp word blows you apart.

A boat with an anchor deep in the sea.
She keeps you steady, while you float.
An anchor named stay,
A boat named voyage.
The heavy chain no longer free.

A tree with roots tapped into your life.
She keeps you cool, and allows you rest.
A tree named home,
Roots named solid.
Branches of life offering choices in strife.

A rocking chair swaying to and fro.
She beckons your weary and comforts your sorrow.
A chair named memory,
A porch named love.
Sitting awhile lessons the blow.

An orchid corsage pinned to my breast.
She is a happy scent but doomed to wilt.
A flower named hope.
A breast named peace.
My mama and I, finally at rest.