“A hundred million miracles are happening every day. And those who say they don’t agree. Are those who do not hear or see.’’
I must credit Rogers and Hammerstein for these wise words that come from their marvelous musical “Flower Drum Song.” Today, and for the past few days, they have been singing in my head.
I see freshly the sheer miracles of nature; the budding trees, the new buds pressing through the ground, desperate to be seen in all their glory, the sweet chirping of baby birds singing hallelujah. I swear the sky is brighter, a more radiant shade of blue. Have you noticed? Or am I still high?
Yes, I am feeling extraordinarily happy. And all because of the latest miracle in my family. Trumpets, this is your cue to announce. Angelic choir, cue. Start the chorus! The greatest miracle of all happened on May 17, a new life entered this world.
A whole fresh world of possibilities has just begun, and I marvel at it for my lovely granddaughter, Jessica Abejuela, gave birth to her and Ricky’s second son! Hurray!!
For so many long months, it seems that his arrival has been top of my family’s coming attraction lists. Still, even when I felt him move, he seemed a fantasy.
Grayson has been connecting with his little brother for months, touching his mother’s belly and talking to Jack-Jack. Children find it easier to believe in miracles. They have not yet been programmed to see to believe, for them to believe. I have worked so hard to maintain my inner child, but adult doubts too often creep in with yes, buts, or you knows.
So, this great-grandmother, now three times over, is flying high. This adorable, perfect, young, adorable boy has already changed all of our lives.
Isn’t it remarkable how one minute we are imagining, and the next HE is real life, now an active part of the world. His future is a clean slate to write upon.
This has all got me thinking about the chain of life that we mothers belong to. Once I was a figment of imagination to my mother. She had lost her last child at birth and was filled with worries. Yes, she had born a healthy boy, my brother, five years before, BUT, yet, miracle of miracles, I was born healthy, and she said she smiled so big her face almost broke.
When I became pregnant at 16, she was not thrilled, partly because of my age and the idea of becoming a grandmother. When my son was born, she noticed his blue eyes and curly red hair and readily accepted the role of Mimi.
Oh, she would tell me how much she wished that her mother could see him. Another link in the chain. I went on and had two more chains, the daughters that magically, years later, gave me the ability to become a Gramma.
I have delighted in that role with my four grandchildren. Pure heaven on earth! Yes, I am one of those grandmothers who believe that their grandchildren walk on water. Really, they do.
Then, nearly twelve years ago, another miracle occurred with the birth of my great-granddaughter, Mady. The fact that she is beginning junior high school next term is beyond my comprehension about as much as my son turning sixty-one (I mean, really, how CAN that be?)
Another miracle occurred when my youngest grandchild, Jessica, became pregnant with our remarkable, in every way, Grayson. I heard the sound of another link being added to the long, long chain of my ancestry.
No wonder that the relationship between mother and daughter is such a sacred bond. It is that knowledge that we each give the gift of immortality.
For we do contribute to the future with a bit of us going along for the ride by our genes. I know that as I have aged, no, matured, I have given more serious thought to `the big picture.’
Of course, when we are younger, we are too busy running after our children to see anything but the NOW. Now, I have more time to ponder the questions of the universe, of which there are legions. I try and contemplate my tiny role in the miracle of it all.
It makes me think about my trip to England and Scotland and visiting the Castle at Edinburgh, where Mary Queen of Scots gave birth to the son who would be King. I stayed awhile in the small, dark room where the Queen gave birth.
My imagination was filled with almost too much information. I hoped that Mary had a chance, however brief, to enjoy the miracle she had just birthed. Poor Mary never had the opportunity that I am enjoying, seeing at least two generations ahead. That makes me incredibly sad.
Being a mother has made all the difference in my life. It is integral to who I am. Now I know many women who have never been a mother, and they live full, happy lives, I am sure. But. I feel so tuned into the big scheme of things that my relatives have long existed, including the Mary Queen of Scots I just spoke about.
I am from the Stuart Clan. I have loved learning more about my genetic history through research. It enriches me and opens doors of understanding and interests for me. It is also a reminder of my participation in a larger vision than I can imagine. There will be a day when Jackson is a father and wonders about his part as a link in this chain of miracles.
It is hard to go from such wonders and great possibilities to thinking about all the recent deaths due to the onslaught of monstrous tornadoes that have hit the United States. I think about the disruption of so many links that will never reach their potential due to living in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I think of the lives, though fortunate to still be here, who have lost everything, and I rant at the thing called fate.
As a past Michigander, I know well that feeling of no control when you hear that a tornado is headed your way, and the guilty sense of relief that you walked away untouched…for this time. I appreciate every time that fate bends away from me and mine. But I believe we need to be aware of the bitter in order to better appreciate the sweet. And, right now, in my world, it is sweet.
