Things are always changing.  Every time we think we’ve got it all figured out, it changes.  The old saying “change or die” refers to the idea that everything in nature is either growing or dying.  I am definitely not dying yet.

Jeanne has commented to me several times lately that the mothers of several of her friends have died this year.  She says it’s a bad year for mothers and I need to be careful.  I consider it, briefly, and think being careful usually includes avoiding change.  Does that mean being careful moves me moving closer to death?

At the moment, I am hovering between.  It has occurred to me this year that I have less time left than I’ve got behind me.  I can easily remember most of the past 50 years of my life, the time since I turned 18.  Much of the time before that is available, but not in the same detail.  So, I can remember more time than I’ve got left to live.  It gives a different perspective. ( Read more )

Look at the photo at the top of the page. We all look healthy and mostly happy. None of us really like having our photo made and we are never truly pleased with the results, but that was a good day. Looking at it brings back that feeling of togetherness. I don’t think we’ve all been in the same place at the same time since.

In fact, our lives are so separated and busy that most of us seldom even talk to each other. There are times when it seems that Facebook is our only connection. Even there, we don’t usually communicate directly. I sometimes feel that I am stalking my children and grandchildren. I gauge their well being by what they post to their friends and the pictures they put online.

One of the shows I watch on TV regularly features a family that always meets for dinner every Sunday. Every week, I find myself longing for that kind of situation. Of course, they all live in the same town and we don’t even all live in the same state. Besides, meeting like that would require someone to actually cook a big meal every Sunday afternoon and I certainly don’t have time for that.

Even so, I find it hard to accept those facts as an excuse. I do live in the same town with other members of my family, including one of the two sons who weren’t available for the photo above. Of the three “children” who live here, I only see one on a regular basis and that is mainly because she eats and showers at my house. When she lived in Florida, we communicated with each other no more than we do with the others now. ( Read more )

I received a prayer request this morning from a young mother whose infant son has been diagnosed with cancer.  Tiffany is the best friend of my oldest granddaughter, Tracy.  I’ve known her since they were in middle school.  She has created a Facebook page to ask for everyone’s prayers as Jaxton fights yet another battle.

When she got pregnant soon after graduating from high school, she chose to keep her baby.   Jaxton was born with health problems and has fought one battle after another.  Somehow, Tiffany has stayed strong through all of it.  I pray that they will survive this newest challenge together and finally have good health.

To watch an infant struggle so hard just to survive has to be the most painful thing imaginable.  I cannot pretend to understand the anguish that a mother of any age must feel in such a situation.  I am not sure I could handle it even now and I thank God that I haven’t had to find out.

I know many people who would say this circumstance is to be expected when children have children, not because the young mothers do anything wrong, but simply because their own bodies aren’t mature enough to handle pregnancy.  I want to disagree with them, but must admit the statistics seem to be on their side.

I was a teenage mother.  My oldest son was born when I was 17 and his brother came before my 19th birthday.  All three of my daughters were mother’s before they were eighteen.  I thank God every day that all my children and grandchildren were born healthy in spite of our young ages.

I, personally, ran the gamut of chances for birth defects.  When I was pregnant, women were not advised against tobacco and alcohol.  I started smoking between the birth of my youngest son and that of  my oldest daughter.  I never drank a lot, but I never stopped because I was pregnant.

Although my sons were born while I was a teenager, the time span between my oldest daughter and her two younger sisters was long enough to put me in the over thirty bracket for the last one.  Thirty-two is only the lower edge of the second most dangerous age for giving birth, but it still falls within the time-frame.

In spite of the odds, I have five healthy, intelligent, beautiful children.  They have given me many grandchildren who are the same, even though my daughters too were not always the optimal age and sometimes indulged bad habits.

As I look back over my life and consider the many mistakes I made when I was young, I can only conclude that my mother’s prayers were answered and God was watching over us every day.  The faith she nurtured in me leads me to pray daily for my children and grandchildren to be as blessed as I have been.  I know He hears and even when circumstances lead to difficult times, He is there to give us as much strength as we need to overcome the problems of life.