Wednesday, January 16, 2019

A Cold and Snowy January

I’m looking out my window at the biggest snowfall I’ve seen in years. Icicles hang like crystal daggers from my roof. I don’t have to venture out to know it’s cold. Frigid. But I feel safe and warm in my house. My furnace is keeping the temperature constant. I have indoor plumbing and modern conveniences. 

I dedicated Breathing on Her Own
to my Mom. 1/17/32 Marks the Day She Was
Literally "Breathing on Her Own"
My thoughts drift to my grandparent’s house in the mountains. I remember visiting them when the temperatures were cold. I remember when they didn’t have electricity. The morning would come. I would hear Grandpa stoking the fire in the stove that sat in the middle of the living room. Soon, the smell of bacon cooking on Grandma’s wood stove and voices coming from the kitchen would pry me from the warmth of the featherbed and Grandma’s snuggly quilts. The floor would be cold and I would race to the kitchen. Those are good memories. Of course they didn't have indoor plumbing. That is not so good a memory.

But this week I think about what it must have been like for them in January of 1932. Back then, Grandma and Grandpa had three children: Flora, Jim, and Andrew. Another was due mid January. Of course people didn’t go to warm, modern hospitals to have their babies. Grandma was to have her baby at home. 

Love My Memories,
But Happy For Modern
My Furnace During this Snow!
The fourth, a little girl, arrived on a cold January morning… the seventeenth, to be exact. Her parents, Bill and Ophia looked at her sweet little face and dark hair and fell in love with her immediately. How do I know this? First, they were my grandparents and they were filled with love. Second, I’m a mom. I know what it’s like to see that baby in your arms. 

They named her Nora. They poured God’s love into her. 
That little baby grew up to be my mama. 
I am so blessed to have her in my life. 

So on this snowy day, I’m looking out the window, a warm cup of coffee in my hand and I think about the day my mother was born. I know it wasn’t easy. I know it was cold. But I imagine Grandma and Grandpa were filled with so much joy that day they didn’t notice the frigid temperature outside. 

As I write this it sounds like...well, it sounds like history. And it is. But it makes me wonder what my daughters will think of the way I grew up. My grandparents had a good life. Because it isn't about convenience. It's about family.

Happy Birthday, Mama! 
Live knowing that you are loved.

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