Back in the Game

My husband dug the camera and its charger out of the cabinet.  Covered in dust from the last baseball game, it's been hidden away for about six years now.  During Jacob's high school years, I would take pictures of him pitching, batting, running the bases, sliding in...  It transferred to my taking action shots of all the boys on the team.  There were some amazing shots.  It kept me focused on the game and helped me feel useful, needed.

Today, during a tournament game, I took pictures of the young men on the high school team that Jacob coaches.  I want to help them see that they look professional, be able to see their stances, catch those action shots.  The metal fence was a challenge as I had to be balanced in order to the correct focus, a good angle.  Although it added a tiny bit of blur around the frame of the picture, almost like a filter.  If I needed to turn quickly for a quick play at the plate, I had to be able to frame the lens with the fence.  I got some pretty good shots.  This inexperienced team looks big time!

At the end of the game, Jacob comes out of the dugout, gives me a hug, and tells me "thank you" for taking the pics.

"I hope there are some good ones,"  I told him.

"Did you take any of me?"

"Yes, I cannot resist taking pictures of you!"

"They'll be great then!"  he says in his joking way.

Hope is Here --- Almost

I can't wait:  Hope will be home tomorrow!  We pick her up from the airport at 9 in the morning.  Then we will have her for a whole week.

Hope is my blonde-haired, blue-eyed twin.  Full of quiet spunk, she is a dedicated, loving young woman.  She is a beautiful writer and can read more quickly than anyone I know.  She is in her first year of law school and is loving every minute of it.  The only thing I dislike about it is the fact that she is so far away from me.  I miss her.

From the moment Hope was born, she has been right by me.  We love doing everything together.



Jacob was the first one to hold Hope after she was born.  As the big brother, he was all smiles and kisses.  When she was just one day old, Hope lay next to Jacob in the hospital bed while he read to her.  They've been there for each other since.

Born with dark, almost black red hair, Hope was so tiny.  She weighed 8 lbs. 3 oz., a small baby.  She was like my living baby doll.  I could dress her up in gowns and bows.


My mind is all over the place tonight.  I have so many memories of Hope swimming around in my head.  I will choose one and expand it later.

A Little Motivation

"Coach Mo, it's your turn!  Let's see those homeruns!"

It's the end of practice.  The young men on the team have never taken the game of baseball seriously.  When baseball season came along, they saw it as a fun way to miss class, to hang out.  Whether they won or most often lost, they played the game.  This year, my son is their coach.  He lives and breathes baseball.  He sees this opportunity to coach as a way to help young men progress in their sport, their leadership, their growth as a man.  Jacob has made a deal with the players that at the end of each practice, he will go to bat and hit one more homerun than they have.  Nothing like a little competition!

The first time Jacob hit at the end of practice, he hit four pitches.  The third one bounced over the outfield fence.  The fourth easily sailed over the wall.

Jacob played his first t-ball game when he was three years old.  Blonde, brown-eyed with his tiny red baseball t-shirt and his baseball pants that were the smallest we could find but still had the knee patch at Jacob's ankle.  He stepped up to the plate.  First pitch, he swung and hit the ball down the left-field line.  Dropping his bat, he took off running.  He didn't know that in this league the players only ran one baselength at a time, so when he approached first base, he kept on trucking, rounding first base and heading to second.  Those little feet picking up the dirt.  Parents and friends and family were yelling and cheering!  Calling out for Jacob to stop.  While the other team players were trying to field the ball, Jacob rounded second and headed to third.  The mound of little boys has fielded the ball at this time, but there is no stopping Jacob now.  On to home, he goes!  As he approached home plate, he slid in even though there was not a throw he needed to avoid.  Bless his heart!  He had watched his father and I play softball so he knew how the game worked.  He didn't need to advance one base at a time.

At the end of his college baseball days, Jacob was invited to play on an independent league ball team.  He was closer to his dream of playing pro ball.  After a while, he came home and knew coaching was his next step.

Jacob steps up to the plate.  The assistant coach is getting ready to pitch to him.  None of his players hit a homerun during practice so per their agreement he only has to hit one over the wall.  Today, he receives two pitches.  The second one went over!  Great job giving your players a little motivation to improve and to take your game seriously.

Is it spring break yet?

I was stoked today when looking out over my classroom at students sitting in groups at the couch and with partners at tables and working and helping each other be successful.  I was proud.  They are working so hard.

Then, my seventh period class walks in.  Like the men on this YouTube channel that are dropping cars onto a trampoline they designed, the boys in my class are full of something.  Excitement, pent-up energy, anger?  I don't know, but they came in today and just could not (or would not) follow instruction.  One almost got in a fight!  What?!!!  Yea, even after I spoke with him in the hall to find out what was going on.  What was causing him to not be focused.  Even telling him to walk the "block" of classes to release some energy and to calm down, he comes into class and just can't do what he's supposed to do.

Tomorrow is a another day, right?  We start fresh each day and get to build new habits.  We will make better choices and earn some praise and be one day closer to spring break and the rest we all need.

What I Needed

"Hey, I know you!" she said as she turned her buggy around, her big smile shining.

After a sweet hug, we catch up by reminiscing about our last days on the campus we shared, where we are now, and what our upcoming plans are.  She is trying to secure a salaried position on her campus.  This would not only be great for her but for the students she will teach.  She has a beautiful soul!

Sincerely, nervously, I tell her I am sorry about the loss of her little girl.  She smiles even bigger and says that she knows and believes that we all have a day we must die.  This was her little girl's time.  

             I needed to hear that.  Be reminded of that.

Her little girl was born with Down's syndrome.  Oh what a shining spirit!  Two older sisters who just loved her.  The little girl thrived with her mother being her constant support.  Nothing got in her way. However, at almost three years old, she passed away suddenly, unexpectedly. 

              I cannot even fathom losing one of my children.

My friend explains what she learned about her daughter's death.  The challenges with her spouse and her new move and her new job.  She said that God does move in mysterious ways.  That God had a plan all along.  He slowed the building of their house in the Spring because He knew of the heartbreak that would occur in the Winter.  He knew.  She trusted.  She smiles and that smile reaches her eyes.

             I lost my mother in August, the first week of school.  Even though she was in a nursing home,  she counted on me as her caregiver to make decisions for her.  To fight with the nursing home staff about overmedication and proper care and just basic needs.  In this last year, I visited with her just about every evening, spending time painting and just talking, keeping her company--me company.  She had been in the hospital three different times this past summer and on the last hospital stay was told she would have about six months to live.  She returned to the nursing home with hospice as a way to keep her comfortable and with me to make sure she gets anything she needed.  She died a week later.  Somehow, I felt it was her time.  I left school that Friday morning, stayed with her all day, couldn't leave that night.  I stayed awake, talking when I felt she needed to hear a voice, but mostly, just being by her side, hoping she knew I was there.  I made sure she got the medications every hour that she needed so she would feel no pain.  On Saturday morning, I am standing on one side of her bed and Mom's favorite nurse was on the other side.  DeAndra and I were talking as we did most Saturdays about her son and my family and whatnot.  Mom normally would have been right in the middle of our conversation, giving advice, laughing.  Girls having fun.  Mom took her last breath that morning.  We both felt she passed doing what she loved:  spending time with us, just hanging out.

            At Mom's funeral, I was with family and I know Mom is in a better place.  I went to work and back home.  During Christmas break, I feel like I finally took time to grieve. 

           But just last week, I continue to wake up during the night having vivid dreams of failure where my mother is concerned.  What could I have done differently to make sure she would have been safe? Why did this have to happen to her?  She was so young.  Did she have a good life in the end?  I tried to make sure she was comfortable.  There is so much.  My mind simply takes over and is taking my joy.

    My friend lost her little girl.  A toddler who had her entire life ahead of her.  My friend smiles.  Glows!  She trusts God had a plan and is following through with it.  In my heart, I know He has plans for my mother.  I know she joined her twin sister who had passed only four months before.  Why can't I be at peace?  What am I missing?  Thank you, my friend, for being a light in this dark world.  You are what I needed.  

A Vivid Dream

It's so difficult to concentrate, but I try to focus on my hands.  I have them cupped and am moving one hand on top of the other.  While I am containing something, I can feel it moving.  I am unsure of what it is.  I think to myself:  "What am I doing?  Is this something I need?"

I look over and see Hope although everything where she is seems blurry, almost like there is a triple filter on it.  I see Hope's long legs on top of the puffy, soft white cotton duvets.  Her slender feet are hanging off the side of the bed.  I cannot see her face.

"Don't let it get away!"  Looking down, I move my right hand to act as a dome to my left hand.  I see it now.  Its legs, body, fangs are covered in tan fur, spiky to the touch, large black eyes.  It looks me straight in the eye, rears back and pounces on the inside of my palm, sinking-or trying to sink its fangs into my hand.  The fangs are furry, too.  It looks shocked that its fangs didn't sink into my skin.  It tries again.  Watching this large spider, I am not afraid.  It continues to try to bite me, but I tell him that it is no use.

I turn to Hope and begin talking with her.  What she and I discuss is not clear, but I do know we are focused on catching up and talking about school.  I am so proud of all her hard work.

As she fades into the background, I look back at this humongous spider with his tan fur and dark black eyes.  "You're not going anywhere."

Surreal

I lean back so that I am laying slightly behind Jacob's shoulder.  Looking passed his ear and the dark curl of his beard, I can see little Cooper.  Having them both in my view is surreal.  We are sitting on the couch:  mother, son, grandson.  Jacob has his feet on the coffee table so that little Cooper is laying on Jacob's thighs and can see both of us.

A sweet smile spreads across Cooper's face as he watches his daddy, listens to him.  The corners of his mouth tilt and flex.  The top lip stretching long, curving upwards.  His bottom lip parts with happiness.  Eyes twinkling, he coos and kicks his bare feet.  His lips are slick and shiny with saliva, and a bubble begins to peek out.  Between his eyebrows, lines crinkle his forehead as he looks in turn from me to his daddy.

Sitting here next to my son while he is holding his 3-month-old son, I feel blessed.  This man beside me, once my baby, is now a father!  It seems like just yesterday that I was the one holding him as an infant.  The love that is in Jacob's heart for Cooper can be seen in every pore of his being.  I can't wait to watch these two for years to come.