Sweet To Me

Even though it's annoying and stressful for the parents, what grandparent doesn't inwardly get a kick when the grandkids pitch a fit about leaving Abuelita's house? My three grandkids, who live way over in Jonesboro, were so not ready to leave yesterday, after two days of pool time and all my ridiculous kids, their aunts and uncles, all like JoJo who are willing to play the clown, to then leave this self-contained nuthouse seems kind of boring.

My granddaughter, Heidi, is going into third grade, she and Tabby'd been inseparable in the pool for two solid days. With two brothers of her own, she'd enjoyed their girl time, also not wanting to leave yesterday. Well, hey, I too hated to see 'em go.

As we were headed out to church yesterday morning, hardly a two mile jaunt, as we approached the four-way stop, I saw several deputy cars and remarked aloud, "Sure hope that's not someone from church," which probably isn't a fair thought to then, by default, wish it upon someone else.

"Oh no," I sucked in my breath, seeing my son-in-law, Preston, walking on the side of the road with a couple from church. I rolled down my window, willing my heart to crank back up, "Y'all OK?"

It'd been a bit more than a fender bender, both participants were from my church, and I'd found that Preston had dropped Sarah and the kids off and gone back to help.

We're now in Vacation Bible School, four nights this week, but I only have my three remaining elementary kids involved, Tabby, Jack and Nando, and my high schoolers all volunteered to help there each night.

First though, we had to get through our good-byes to Pastor Bronson at his send off last night, even I had to choke back tears when I'd hugged him goodbye. He's gonna be a very hard act to follow, but my sweet Pastor Tony was telling me he was interviewing candidates and looking for another Eight Year Man, not someone who'd burn out with teenagers quickly.

This affects 11 of my children, they'd had a blast at Forward '10, all now recovering from a major lack of sleep, one of their other favorite pastors, Jentzen Franklin, had preached over the weekend, and they'd brought me home two of his books to read. Sadly none of my younger kids are big readers, and me, a former media specialist, gets irked at the thought, but both Martin and Tony were reading their copies of Fear Fighters: How To Live With Confidence in a World Driven By Fear, late into the night.

I glance each morning at news headlines, I'm very aware of the standings in the World Cup, but overall becoming more and more disenchanted with current events, preferring to work in isolation in my gardens, producing rather than fretting over stuff I can't do anything about anyway.

Lily, Tony and I dug another 15 pounds of taters last night, I weeded until dark. I counted for some weird reason, picking and eating 200 sweet blueberries and a hundred blackberries. Summer nights in Georgia are a time in which you're only a little less drenched in sweat than when the sun's shining, but the velvety air just transports one into Heavenly realms. I inhale the many scents, my fragrant four-o'clocks so abundant from reseeding themselves that I've had to yank a ton of them out, they and the rudbeckia would take over the entire garden if allowed to do so.

I'd literally sent Lily out right before noon dinnertime after church, to gather more jalapenos as we've consumed all of the Fire Hot Pepper sauce, I brewed up another batch immediately glad that fresh, frozen, canned, or mellowed in the fridge are all possibilities for this miracle brew. It's in varying stages of hotness as we combine various peppers each time, no batch tasting the same, all jars making us swoon with complete and utter addictive intoxication.

My teenagers were all explaining what all they learned at Forward...all stuff that I preach here, and I said so reproachfully. "Well duh, you're a mom and we tune out sometimes," was the consensus.

There was a group crash last night after VBS, after Forward, after Pastor Bronson's departure, and the grandchildren leaving. None of my kids do well with goodbyes, we had a Post Party Syndrome mentality, but I'm the opposite in that I barreled outside to plant something, in this case it was more sweet potatoes and hibiscus I'd grown from seed, moving on in my mind, new projects, more books to read, older children to deal with, this not adopting in the last five years or so has allowed for a heretofore unknown stability to settle from within, providing a wonderful, comforting layer of peace overall.

I'd talked with Vanessa last night on the phone, she's doing very well, holding down a job, catching extra shifts, and it was so nice as I kept expressing my pride in her abilities. "I do just wanna make you proud," she's always claimed, and it's been awhile coming, but it's still sweet to me.

All y'all know I pray about everything, not always getting answers I like, sometimes thrilled with the results, but with absolute, unyielding confidence and total assurance that I'm walking where I should walk, it's completely second nature to me, and that's where the sermon series at church is headed to this month, reinforcing my beliefs and teaching me more. I may be a know-it-all, but I am teachable and reachable.