Happy Birthday, Grandma!
One of the blessings of being the first born is also getting to be the first grandchild. One of my favorite stories from childhood is when my mom, who was living in Ohio, called up my grandmother (her mother) to wish her a happy birthday. It was also the day of my birth, but Grandma did not know it yet, so Mom said, “Happy Birthday, Grandma!”
Of course, Grandma began her usual thanks for the wishes when the new term hit her. “Wait… Grandma?”
And thus began the plans to transport me back to Southern California and all the family members who had new titles like grandma, grandpa, aunt, uncle, etc. When life became more difficult not many years later, I believe the special position as the “first” everything, and all the spoiling that came with it in my formative years, gave me a balance that made the hard times easier to survive. And they made me a better big sister who could take control and take care as needed. Not perfect, mind you, as I was still a child, but I think I was a little more attentive to my baby sister.
I still have fond memories of shared birthday gatherings when there would be a cake with both names, or a big and little cake when we each got our own. I loved sharing my birthday with my grandmother, and it never felt the same after she left this world. But I will always have that sweet story of the phone call “reveal” to my newly ordained Grandma. 😁
Here’s one of those memories from a Polaroid I shared to my Flickr feed, though I’m sorry I cannot seem to control the sizes from Flickr pages to this blog…
Thank you for joining me on this trip down memory lane. And if you have a grandmother who needs a pretty card for her birthday, feel free to download and use the card above. You can add a name in multiple photo editing apps, but I recommend Photo Studio Pro the most.
And one last thing; I learned today that there is a scientific group doing studies on mother’s milk that shows how different needs of a baby create different chemical components within the milk. It’s a different composition for boys than girls, it changes for sick babies, and first-time mothers have more cortisol in their milk which causes first-born babies to be more alert, attentive, and anxious. It’s almost like some Intelligent Being designed things to work in certain ways that benefit the human race, huh? 🤩 Read a summary of more highlights from this amazing study by Katie Hinder, an evolutionary anthropologist, on X (you’ll need to log in) at https://x.com/i/status/2016990657450299837 and prepare to be amazed. (If you don’t have an X/Twitter account, maybe look up the scientist by name. It’s a lot of fascinating study.)
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From Whence Came the Poet
On this day (Jan 15) in 2022, we officially said goodbye to the father of many. My sibling family is a large one consisting of both sisters and brothers. Some are half-siblings, step-siblings, and adopted siblings, but they are all mine. The sister I was raised with has her own special place in my heart and life, but I carry each of my siblings in pockets of my heart—and often to God’s throne in prayer.
You see, I am the first born to this man who was wild yet called. His life was a wrestling match of soul and spirit with a God who never gave up on him. He ran from God geographically (though that’s not truly possible), and he ran emotionally, but he always came back. Whether it was a grenade in the face when his tunnel rat duties got him too close to the enemy in Vietnam, or a moment when lyrics or poetry came pouring out of him to remind him that God still loved and pursued him, something was always pulling him back to a place to consider God again.
He left my mom and sister and I just after I turned 5 years old. My mom kept all his pictures and told me stories of things like his interview with Jerry Dunphy after the incident in Vietnam. She said he was in a hospital bed and told the reporter that he prayed for God to give him his eyesight back, so he could see his girls. My favorite picture was the one with guys from his Brave Lions group that showed my name tattooed on his arm. And, yes, I wrote a song about that tattoo.
The years after that were scattered and chaotic. He had multiple marriages and other children. I struggled with my mom’s emotional and spiritual issues. But something always made this little girl long for her daddy. One winter, as a teenager, I ran away and found him in Kansas. I didn’t stay long, and I’ll share that story in another post, but it wasn’t time for us to be a permanent family yet. During that short time, though, I got to see his poetic, musical, and artistic sides. I was only gifted the ability to write poetry and sing. I’ve tried to learn an instrument, but it just never settled with me, and drawing without the help of technology never came naturally. But I love that I can see him as the DNA source of my love for words.
Somehow, that thing of finding himself oft pursued by The Lord also came to me. In my case, I was looking for deeper meaning more than a good time party, but it still filled my life with a mix of dead-ends and a few major moments with God before I willingly gave my life to Him.
As I’ve met and gotten to know my siblings, I’ve found similar stories in their life journeys. Some have finally let God catch up to them, and some are still looking for other answers. But I still call our journeys Grace by DNA because it seems we all took pieces from our shared father’s journey and made them part of our own journeys. I’ll be gathering those journey stories into a book I started back in 2020, but I’ll tell you bits and pieces here in this blog.
While writing this post, I searched and searched for the tattoo song, but I cannot find it right now, so I guess it’s not time to share it. The gist is a comparison of my father’s tattoo with the carved names in the midst of God’s palm, and it’s called Daddy Can Never Forget Me. It talks about how even if he tried to have it removed, the scar would always remind him of me, and then it talks about the nail scars in Jesus’ hands. I sent the lyrics to my dad at one point, along with a letter reminding him that God could never forget him either. He said it made him cry, and I hope it planted a seed that helped to bring him back to The Lord in his last years.
We did have some periods of distance between us through the years, just as I had times where I was distant from my Heavenly Father. But, thankfully, Dad and I didn’t give up on each other. And God never gave up on either of us as He led us to an eventual reconciliation before Dad left this world in 2021.
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