Baby/Star




	WRITE 2 THE HEART Stories that are aimed "Write 2 the Heart" July 22, 2003 Cheryl Speir, Editor, moderator@write2theheart.com ----------------------------------------------------------- Welcome to your latest issue of "Write 2 the Heart" You are receiving this newsletter because you requested a subscription or a friend generously forwarded their copy to you. To subscribe send a blank e-mail to subscribe@write2theheart.com. ------------------------------------------------------------ Today we have a story and poem by first time submitter, Ginger Boda. Ginger works hard at building family traditions that are turning into warm, rich memories. ------------------------------------------------------------ A Star Is Born By Ginger Boda ------------------------------------------------------------ In a couple of months my firstborn child, Jason, will turn 25 years old. A quarter of a century, that is. Of course this means that for nearly half my life I have been a mother. I remember thinking, after giving birth to Jason, that I would never let my husband touch me again! But as the weeks and months passed by, the memory of the pain of childbirth began to fade and eventually Danny and Alisha were born to our household. Ensuring that each little life would know how important they were to us was my mission. I have always made a big thing out of celebrating birthdays. Although our children are grown now, this particular tradition remains in tact. As each child turned another year older, I'd build up the excitement in the family, counting the days and focusing on the "Birthday Star" the entire week. There is a specific dinner prepared, of their choosing, and the recipient is served their meal on what we call the "Your Special" plate. This fragile heirloom, with hand painted fruit displayed on the top, has stood to represent the "Fruit of the Spirit" as mentioned in the Bible. This is what I wish most for my kids on their Birthdays -- Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self- control. Well, that was the ideal anyway. But of course, looking back, many of the memories we laugh about do not include these particular attributes. Along with the supper preparations, comes their favorite cake, and the birthday decor, complete with balloons, banners, streamers, and confetti. The festive tablecloth has been replaced only once in all these years, so as to bring to the occasion, the remembrance of the many birthdays that have gone before. Like chords of love that bind us together, are the traditions of time. To top off the celebration, I search the photo albums picking out several pictures that display the growth and changes which have occurred in the life of the "Star." These are strategically placed on the gift table and sometimes, on the walls behind it. My kids call it the "birthday shrine." Observing them as they reminisce over each photo is a real treat, resulting in "ooohs" and "ahhhs" and giggles as they tease the birthday sibling. Lately, this part of our tradition has become a teary trip down memory lane for me. And now that my husband and I are slowly entering the inevitable "empty nest syndrome," (having only our daughter living with us now), selecting the photos brings on those wistful thoughts that remind my heart how quickly time has flown by! As my children were growing up, they each had a few of those "real birthday celebrations," of course. Their friends were invited for trips to amusement parks, movies, or slumber and pool parties, but the "family time festivities" still took place. Eventually, I noticed that they began to decline on hosting the "peer parties." I would question them to be sure, and would always get the same response, "I just want the family one." I began to wonder if they were embarrassed to have the teenage gatherings at our home (even though our house had become grand central station for most of them through the years), or maybe they were just trying to save us the expense. Consequently, I'd offer up more "fun suggestions," only to be turned down repeatedly. I would finally give up and just plan the 'Family Celebration' while praying that they would not be disappointed, nor grow tired of it altogether. It was a few years ago, when my second son, Danny, said something that ended my questions and worry. When asked, as his birthday was approaching, how he'd like to celebrate it, he replied, "I just want my family party, Mom. That's all I need to make me feel special." I pondered that awhile, and then I posed the same question to Jason and Alisha. They gave me the same response. And it finally dawned on me that what made my children so balanced, joyful, kind, compassionate, and giving, was partly due to the fact that they each had a solid need met. They knew they had a 'special place' in our family, and their lives had been validated year after year, day after day, through treasured traditions instilled from the moment they entered this world. Amidst all the talk of peers providing the only stamp of approval, my kids had found that crucial need fulfilled in the love showered on them by their family. And the fruit of the Spirit grew. Now, as my firstborn reaches another birthday milestone, I have wondered if I should cut back on all of the decor and planning, or at least the balloons and placement of photos. "My children are grown adults now, aren't they," I remind myself. Yes, they are, but celebration of the journey they have taken is still a blessing. No, in fact it is a MUST. So, off I go to the birthday box with our Family tablecloth in it, and the birthday signs, worn with years of scotch tape and tacks. The camera will be readied, and of course our "fruited plate" will join us to celebrate yet another birthday, and to tell our child, "You are Special" to us. Ginger Boda Rhymerbabe @ aol.com Baby's Day Out By Ginger Boda Frustration and anxiety mix with twinges of past due pains. Diapers washed, painting done, stuffed toys all in place. Classes ended, lots of practice, learn to pant and breathe, Clothes fit tighter, thoughts of wonder; "Will I ever see my feet?" So much time to worry and wait, "Be healthy, Little One." "You sure know how to rock 'n roll. You're cramped and overdone!" Pass the time, pack and plan, but labor has begun. Soon enough we'll meet you, can't wait for you to come! Two am: You're wide-awake and goodness, Mommy leaks, Butterflies and labor pains with just one hour sleep. Four am: We're on the road and Daddy knows the way, The family comes to bring support, and yes, today's the DAY! One minute apart, dilated to three, but time passes too slow, Dear little baby, please come out, more contractions, OH NO! "Relax," the Doctor says to me, "you've got a job to do!" The hours drag and poor OLE Dad rubs my back 'til two. "Honey, stay! No, leave me alone. Help me now to breathe. I can't look at you; go away! No, please don't ever leave!" Now it seems unbearable, but soon it'll all be over, And holding my precious gift, I'll remember the pain no more. For God does give us children, to bear in pain, each one, "A heritage from the Lord," says He, to guide and teach and love. Well, the time is now, you're ready; posterior and overdue, Daddy leaves for just a sec, as Mom is numbed for you. Finally, only pressure, but those forceps, large and cold, Gently lead you safe and sound and I cry, "Praise the LORD!" Your Father's face lights up the room, "Look at my baby boy," "Son, I am your Daddy, and you are your Mama's joy!" Seven pounds, five ounces, just twenty inches long, You're tiny and dependent, yet so perfect, alert and strong! Tears of happiness, sighs of relief a magical memory made, We are complete; a family, and Son, today's YOUR Day! All My Love, Mom Ginger Boda Rhymerbabe @ aol.com You are encouraged to write to the authors to let them know what you think of their story, just remember to remove the space before and after the @ symbol. The space is placed in the address to protect our writers from viruses and email harvesting programs. Have a comment on today's story? Send it to: moderator@write2theheart.com ---------------------------------------------------------------- My name is Ginger Boda and I live in California with my husband of 26 years, and youngest child. Having been pregnant 7 times, yet only given birth to 3, I am forever grateful for the miracle of motherhood. I wrote this poem for my firstborn nearly 25 years ago. I love to garden, entertain friends, and write stories and poems that freeze-frame our memories forever. Although I do work for a bank, my greatest investment has been into the lives of my children. -------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------- Letters From Our Readers -------------------------------------------------------------- I am so glad things turned out alright for Melva's sister. I am sorry that she and her sister had to go through what they did with their mother. Pam --------------------------------------------------------------- Military Prayer Reminder --------------------------------------------------------------- As you read over this list of names, please take that moment to pray for these young people and their families: Chris Speir Tim Speir Alan Thaddeaus Howard Todd Holland Graham William Julie Sagel Jessie Marshal Thompson Jason Eric Hernandez Kristin Danielson Ken Prieur Ryan Please continue to pray for our country, our leaders, and our troops at this time. If you have loved ones in the military, or who are being called to go overseas, send their names (first and last or first only) to be included in our prayer reminder. --------------------------------------------------------------- Cheryl's Corner David had painted the head and footboard I mentioned a few weeks back. While he was at work, I swirled green paint in all the ridges. Last night, while he was helping me move it into the house, he noticed the paint. In the dim light of the garage it just looked like dark streaks. He became so upset. He thought he had splashed oil on it. He was so busy apologizing and trying to find the source, that he couldn't hear me telling him I did it. When he finally heard me, you should have seen the visible relief written all over his face. God Bless, Cheryl ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------- © 2003 Write 2 the Heart Nothing may be reproduced or published without the written permission of the individual author or copyright owner. All rights belong to the authors.