By the time she was three, my first daughter, an early talker, had shared that people have colours around them, that I would eventually have three children, and not to worry about those who died, for they come back like she did.
“She’s freaking me out,” I told a cousin of mine. “I don’t know how to respond to this stuff.”
My cousin told me to start with a book by Ian Currie: “You Cannot Die.”
As a new mother, I expected that teaching would be part of my role. I had not anticipated the things my children would teach me.
Number one child opened a whole new world of questioning for me. By the time the third (unplanned) baby came along I was ready.
I continue learning.
Our focus this week has been on “What a child knows.” Thanks to all who participated. If you haven’t already read the entries, please take a moment to visit and comment.
Recent upheaval has plummeted me into a dark space, where I am not willing to settle. Depression has followed me throughout life, and while I acknowledge it has a place, I am not willing to let it drive. I learned long ago that the only way for me to counter the clouds is to be cognizant of my thoughts and adjust focus.
So, I have decided to dedicate Thursdays to acknowledging my blessings.
Where better to start than with those three little miracles who have inspired me to be a better person, and given me the strength to never give up: my children.
As they are not crazy about me taking their pictures, I’ve chosen some old photos, capturing ages and stages:
Being a mom is a blessing. Having birthed these three a miracle I am ever grateful for.
Here in southwest Ontario, we grow corn. By August we’ve also a grown an appetite for the taste of peaches and cream corn, buttered and salted, right off the cob.
My mother comes from farming roots, but these days all she grows is older.
We are all farmers, in a sense – planting our seeds, nurturing our crop, hoping for a fruitful harvest. A mother grows a baby in her womb, raises her, and the cycle repeats. A grandmother now, I grow slower, and more appreciative. Ric and I revel in the gift of grandchildren, and relationships that only grow fonder with time: