Godparents and Godchildren

Many of us are given the honorary title of godparent. My goddaughters are two of the most gorgeous creatures (inside and out) to inhabit this earth.

People define being a godparent in different ways. Here are mine:

Legal: This is technically a guardian. You have been named to raise a minor child or children in the event of the death of the parents.

Religious: You are expected to assist in the religious training of the children. You are to be a steward. (I sat in a priest's office and made my case to be godmother, although I am not Catholic.)

Moral: You've made an oath to be there. Love them. Scold them. Hold them. Have a vested interest in their lives.

For the two girls above, I've tried to do all three. Okay, they've seen me drink and smoke. They've heard my potty mouth. They've also known that my love for them does not fail. They were put in my arms shortly after birth and my arms have a pretty long reach. They're now semi-grown. We've reached a new phase of life -- they don't need me; I need them.

Yes, I've missed games and dances. But I've been there for every milestone from the first tooth to the first boyfriend. Sometimes I've just been there by talking to their mother.

The baby has some godparents. Neither of them has seen him in years. It's probably for the best -- he has enough parents. But I do get annoyed that this honor was taken so lightly. He's grown now and they've missed out on a lot.

There's a reason "God" is part of the title.

The Power of Prayer

I believe in prayers. I pray every day -- usually multiple times.

I also believe that sometimes the answer is "No, I have a different plan."

If we participate in a prayer chain, are we inundating God with prayers to make things go our way? I often do this. I pray hard, loud and often. Then I have to remind myself that my way may not be His way.

Pay Attention

My cousin-in-law and I had a long conversation last night. We talked about Hangdog. We enjoyed memories of the Belle. I love her on many levels but lately I love her for her bluntness. She is one of the minister's wives I wrote about previously. She does it her way and she cracks me up.

When her husband first heard the calling, she told him, "Maybe he just wants you to join the choir." That didn't fly. So, she tried, "Maybe he wants you to teach Sunday school." He did but it wasn't enough. To his credit, he went for it and continues to follow his calling. I have a special spot of admiration for people who follow their calling. I also have a great respect for those who turn themselves inside out and give wings to their spouse. I'm usually the one running around with clippers.

God speaks to me but it's in a different way. He does not want me to join the ministry. (If I'm hearing correctly, he's saying "Please No!") But he does want me to pay attention to the rocks, stones and boulders he's tossing my direction.

Answering to a Higher Power

Lots of surveys show us that most Americans consider themselves religious or at the very least, spiritual. They believe in a higher power, however they choose to define it.

I respect the right for others to have different beliefs than I do. I enjoy the discussions; I always learn something. Many years ago I was on a girl trip and we had some religious conversations. One of the ladies was Jewish. Another is a devout Christian. My favorite memory of that talk is when the Christian said to the Jewish person, "I'd just feel better if you'd believe in Jesus a little bit."

Of course, every time I refer to my responsibility to answer to a higher power, the husband thinks I am referring to him.

And Now There is One

We have returned from the trek to Mississippi, the funeral and the whirlwind. Planes, automobiles and wheelchairs! (I will write more about that later.)

Although I hate this expression, it is what it is.

The Captain/Hangdog/the Unabomber is a lost soul. He didn't just lose his wife. He lost it all ... best friend, nurse, protector, soul mate. In his world, he just lost the biggest part of him. He doesn't know how to be a person without her.

He wanted to go first but apparently, God had other plans.

Opposite

Is it opposite extremes or extreme opposites? All I know is we're living it.

In many ways, the husband and I are polar opposites. He would prefer urban living; I prefer a yard and trees. He's enthralled with high-rise condos; I get claustrophobic just thinking about it. He would prefer no pets; I would have several. (We're a little like Green Acres except I'm the farm-living one and he's the big city one.)

When there's a situation or a crisis, something kicks in for him and he does what needs to be done. I go into a coma or curl into a ball.

We have a crisis at the moment. (We had about 12 hours without one -- you can't expect too much.) Lithuania called this morning while the husband was in the shower. They had to call 911 and dispatch the mother-in-law to the emergency room. She is stable now but we don't really know what's going on. Infection is the possible explanation. Her blood pressure and oxygen levels are screwy.

Here's an ironic twist. While the husband was in the shower, I was going through some paperwork from the Home. When the phone call came, I was reading the document that demands a choice: Use all means available or Do Not Resuscitate. Since he has Power of Attorney, the husband must sign this document -- we just had not gotten to it yet. (Silly me, I was trying to let him relax for a few hours last night.)

Sometimes God taps you on the shoulder. Other times He throws a boulder.

You'll See

I miss my madcap grandmother. She made me crazy in a lot of ways but she never failed to make me laugh.

My mother was always trying to get her out of the house. Once we went to lunch and an over-attentive waiter kept bringing us unneeded soft drink refills. At one point, there were at least 12 Diet Cokes, Cherry Cokes and regular Cokes on the table. My mom said to me, "He's flirting with you." My grandmother replied, "No, he's flirting with me." She was probably right.

Her life was not easy and she made some poor choices. Luckily, she had three daughters who took care of her to the bitter end. I'm not making fun of old age, illness or dementia. I was a coward who ran the other way. Then God tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Here are your in-laws and they are going to live with you."

Zany ol' grandma believed that people were regularly breaking into her apartment to do madcap things like dent her coffee cart or move pillows around. When ANY of us would doubt her, she would say, "You'll see."

She lived for her trashy magazines. Heaven forbid that it was a holiday week and they might come out one day late. My mom tried to explain it to her but she would just nod her head and say, "You'll see." She kept a death calendar of all the famous people who perished. When there were only two, she would say to us, "Another one comes tomorrow -- you'll see."

She used to always tell us we would find her dead one day. Those crazy people were going to do her in. She was sure of it. We all blew off these comments. Her constant mantra was, "You'll see." One night/morning, she died in her sleep. We all rushed to the apartment and waited for the proper officials. Through our tears, somebody said, "You'll see" and we all cracked up laughing ... just for a minute.