Lord, help me...

I find myself, yet again, at a complete loss. Not only of words, but quite possibly of mind. How can one endure the loss of 2 grandfathers exactly one month apart, almost to the hour? How can one grasp the pain that is these 2 forces of nature being gone from this earth? How? How can I simply tell stories of these 2 men to my children and do them justice?


My Papaw, Ralph F. Watkins, was a man's man. He loved to work with his hands...the smell of wood nearly always preceded his entrance. He loved to talk about WWII and was extremely proud of his service in the Navy. He loved his independence and that he could still build things just out of an idea in his head. He was sharp. He was quick. He was Papaw. So much of a Papaw that in birthday and Father's Day cards I had to scratch out whatever other term for grandfather used and write his specific title. He was a lover of early mornings, breakfasts, coffee, and if they didn't kick him out, the Waffle House. I have been to many a Waffle House with him, and no matter if he'd been there before, he's strike up a conversation with someone, anyone, within seconds. He was quick to make a buddy, someone to tell tales of old or just discuss the weather. More than anything, after nearly 7 years apart, I love that he still talked to folks about Bet, my precious Granny.


They had known each other since they were 5, married 60 years. About as opposite as you could get, really, but as complimentary, too. My Granny...sweet, friendly, kind, patient, and my Papaw...friendly, cantankerous, full of stories. I will miss calling him and hearing, "Y'ELLO!" or walking in and seeing him smile and say, "hello, darlin'!" I will miss the smell of him, that crazy finger he cut off years ago and still babied, how he could watch a Western like he'd never seen it, his boot stocking at Christmas. While our relationship was not as close as I would have liked these past few years, I hope he knows how loved he was and how precious my memories are with him. We lived in the same town, but for one reason or another--either craziness of home life or him just being out and about--, didn't see each other a whole lot. I knew it. I called myself on it. But because he was as awnry as they come, I thought he would always be around and outlive us all. Silly me. My memories as a little girl consist of chickens, turkeys, our sweet pieces of small furniture he'd make himself, being amazed by the houses he could design, and a diary full of excitement like, "going to see Granny and Papaw tomorrow! yesssss!", "this weekend at Granny and Papaw's YAY!"...the joy of seeing and spending time with grandparents, and not knowing that they will ever have to leave you. Good ol' days, indeed.


I said it a month ago, and I will say it again today. I know I've been blessed. Not by simply having my grandparents as long as I have, but by who they were as people. My grandpa, giving and wonderful; my granny, loving and kind; my Papaw, open and hard-working. I now pray, pray, pray my Grandma lives to 1000. I can't eat a bologna sandwich without thinking of him. I can't see boots and not think of him. I can't close my eyes today and not hear him clear his throat and imagine his walk, jingling the change in his pocket. With Papaw, it's not so much big things I will remember...but little things. Enjoying a good meal, seeing him love Colt but not dare hold him when he was little, hearing him remember Gran with love in his voice. I'm so thankful they are together now.


I don't know exactly what heaven looks like, I don't know how earthly relationships appear in heaven. What I do know is that my Granny was excited when she saw him, smiling that squinched smile of her's as if she had a secret. I know he is experiencing happiness like he has never known here on earth, and a peace that surpasses all of our sad understanding. I know that because we are children in Christ, that my last time seeing him....of seeing him and knowing he was in his final hours...was not my last time seeing him. He will greet me again, with a rowdy "Y'ELLO!" and probably up on a tractor.


My sadness, my grief, my shattered heart are being held by my Maker's hands. My mom, who is now without her earthly parents, is being cradled by the one who knit her together. My God, my God...even in the depths of my sorrow, I know loves me and acknowledges my pain. I know he catches my tears. This horrible part of life will not conquer all. Death is not the end.


Papaw...I love you more than I can say. I thank you for the example that is your marriage and how it survived and thrived. Thank you for letting mom marry dad, even though it's legendary how hard that was for you. My memories are great, you are loved and missed.

Love, Moni

.....!

So I'm a tad late this week getting my blogging in....I had my niece a few extra days and have just been generally cranky/tired/pregnant this week. Yes, excuses, but it is what it is. I find myself a lot more crabby this pregnancy than what I was with my son. I think my husband will say that I am equally crazy, but I cried a lot more with Colt vs simply lashing out with "Morty"--short for "Voldemort" if I haven't explained the nickname of our unborn daughter. She's been giving me hell since 3w2d when the smell of Cheerios made me wanna hurl. 

Lovely.

So what is on my heart this week? My family is most definitely my love...my son cracks me up by the minute, my husband seems to grow and change into an even better man than the one I married 5.5 years ago, I'm currently growing what has to be the next great American female gymnast, my parents continually show their love and support, my in-laws could not be better, and my sister and her family are everything I envision they should be. That sounds weird....but whatevs. I'm also all too familiar with poop that is clearly the corn nuggests my son ate at the Chinese restaurant the previous day. I have come to realize (note: not accept), when I don't see my husband til 830 at night, that he really doesn't want to have much to do with me other than to ask if he has clean underwear for the next long workday. I'm aware that my parents, sibling, and in-laws will all aggravate me to some level at some point, and that I will return the favor.  I know that I am crazy and hormonal and will eventually want to cry in the bathtub, fully clothed, simply because I can.

Life is not all butterflies and honeypots. Having a kid is not that pretty picture of the perfectly toned mother nesting with her sweet sleeping baby who never cries or has corn nugget poo. Being married isn't always cuddles and anniversaries, and is very rarely ever making out like you once did in a car. (and that sucks) Your parents are still your parents--I don't care that you're married with your own kids, your own bills, your own issues. Parents are there, lurking, being crazy. In-laws, no matter how giving and welcoming, fall into the same category as your own parents. 'nuf said. Siblings often immitate your early years together, no matter how much you now have in common or don't mind sharing.

It's funny how your mind works...how you rationalize, how you think you can be convincing and change someone. My idea, in the early days of our marriage, of how to get Chris to be more affectionate and pay more attention to me was to scream and yell about how he didn't ever show me he loved me. Awesome. We have several historic fights that should get written down before they are just family myth, but the truth contains several instances of slamming doors, removal of doorknobs, flying french fries, discarding of all clean clothes from dryer/dresser to the hallway floor, and one unfortunate use of barbeque sauce. But I digress...I think when we first got married and were in our first apartment, I kind of thought things would be easy (which was silly because we have always been combative)...that we'd snuggle up on our loveseat every night after work, discuss the day and how we missed each other, have romance novel love sessions more often than not, and then have children when we couldn't contain our love to just each other anymore.

......!

Eventually (as in about a month ago), I had to realize that I cannot change my husband. He has to want to change himself. I had to realize that he could not change me. I had to want to change myself. I had to want to be a better wife. I could not just expect that my repeatative harping of, "spend time with me! hang out with me! watch me play on my phoooooooooone!" would actually inspire him to sit with me on the couch instead of his recliner. Or opt to watch a movie with me vs going back and playing a video game. Or to stay awake past 10pm (nudge nudge). I had to kind of let go of my ideal marriage...which was hard because I'd been hanging onto my Darcy-Rhett Butler love combo for a while. I started praying to obtain the marriage God intended for us to have. I began to attempt to fulfill my role as wife and mother in its most basic form, and I released all the things I felt my poor sweet husband wasn't living up to (2 fictional characters created by women...whoops) Sounds very 1950s, perhaps, but I'm telling you....not only is my house cleaner and I'm more calm, but my husband had flowers delivered to the house this afternoon just because he knew I had gotten up 4 times with Colt last night and I was tired and suuuuper cranky. What? Who? I had prayed that God would not only show Chris that I needed a little more hand-holding, but that He would allow me to show Chris that I respected him as well as loved him. Can that be revealed in a clean toilet? Who knows...but what I do know is that when I stopped thinking, "if he would just read how Edward treats Bella, he'd see what I need" (and yes, that's embarrassing...please forgive) and started thinking along the lines of simply showing respect (Ephesians 5:23) as well as not complaining (Philippians 2:14) and rejoicing always (1 Thessalonians 5:16), things relaxed and we were both capable of revealing our true feelings in a more understandable and accurate way.

Don't expect anyone to change. You're the only one who can change. Just remember to PRAY. Pray...simple as that. It's a time to repent. It's a time to be thankful. It's a time to ASK FOR THINGS. God cares about the desires of your heart (Psalm 37:4) and there's no shame in asking for His help. I begged for help in my marriage, so I could both see how Chris does show his love for me (in so many ways it's embarrassing I ever complained) as well as how I could better show my love for him. We don't have it all figured out, obviously, but I can guarantee our barbeque sauce will stay where it belongs.

Family, whether it's your family of origin or the one you chose, will challenge you. Every family has its strengths as well as its weaknesses. Sometimes the weaknesses seem to take over...and they can rule all. My prayer for my family, my entire family, is that we don't allow our weaknesses to guide us. I pray that we can look on others with a loving and forgiving heart, that we can be  positive examples to each other, that we can always be supportive and uplifting and not let differences (no matter how big or small) keep us from the love that God blessed us with having within our unit.