The Precious Handmade Gift of Life....

I watched today as my six year old daughter began to open her gift. At first she seemed quite passive about the task. After all, it was the end of Christmas Eve and Katie-Grace had already opened her fair share of toys and presents from her many admirers. But as her Grandmother explained whom had sent her the gift, Katce began to tear open the first of several packages more fervently, her tiny hands ripping the paper as if it was uncovering a long held secret she needed to know.
The first gift held hushed fascination as my daughter unwrapped it. The room was quiet as her Grandmother proudly stated, "and she made it just for you...." It was a pastel colored tray that bore her name and said "I Love You" hand painted richly with a childlike hand. She carefully reached into the box and pulled out her next treasure and unwrapped it. The gleam in Katce's eyes grew brighter as she gingerly fingered her hand painted teapot. She touched the tiny spout and smoothed the lid as she carefully placed it on its perch high atop the hollow vase. Her hand carefully picked up the next piece and she shewed away the other children and guarded the small sugar bowl with its colorful glossy surface. She held it close for a moment and observed just the right spot to place it softly on the tray in it's rightful place next to the teapot.
I began to hold back tears as she continued in her own little world, taking out each tiny cup and saucer from their wrappings and never looked up to see what we all thought of her latest Christmas conquest. She never noticed that she had other gifts to open, she only stared and touched and caressed her miniature tea set carefully "pouring out" in a make believe tea party that existed in her vivid imagination. No one even noticed the way she touched each small piece time and time again and whispered the words"I Love You" as she read them over and over again. But I did. I noticed.
 You see, I noticed because I am her Momma and I am trained to know my little girl and the makings of her little heart. I am preprogrammed to know that this handmade tea set meant much more to her than a simple playtime romp on a fun filled afternoon. This tea set represented a part of Katce that she is too young to understand, and too immature to comprehend. But I understand it because I am her Momma.
I say it to Katce a million times a day, "I Love you"...I write it to her. I whisper it to her. I tickle it to her. I have even sung it to her. She expects it from me because I am her Momma. And yet, I did not give her this gift. I would have. I could have. I paint. I am talented. But I did not do it, it was not me. This I love you was much more important than any "I Love Yous" that I have ever uttered.
Somewhere, another young woman who loves Katie-Grace perhaps more than I, painted this gift. She tenderly picked out the tray. She carefully painted Katce's name. She fervently painted, "I Love You". She picked out the colors. She painted and glazed and fired them and waited for each piece to get done. She gingerly wrapped them in more love than she'll ever know.
And as I watched my daughter finger the words, "I Love You", I realized that in her little hearts of hearts, her birth mother had validated what I had always promised her...that she loved her. I softly held back a gasp as I held my breath and promised to keep her precious treasure safe, I wanted to stop all the noise and hold her close and explain the importance of this momentous occasion. I wanted to shout to the world that my little girl will forever understand that her adoption is okay, that she fits, that she feels complete. But I couldn't and I didn't. I just picked up that tray and promised to take care of Katce's precious treasure...the words, "I Love You"...painted from a beautiful, loving birth mother to a beautiful, loving daughter she gave to me....

Sewing a Memory

Today I will go to work as usual. I will sew some things for customers, alter a few clothes, and maybe do some cleaning for my bosses. But after that I will begin to make some memories. It has taken me close to two long years to finally be able to part with some of my late son Jeff's things. Some things I have given away to whomever God has lead. Some things I have given up based on the needs of the other person. But mostly I have sniffed his things, refolded them, and put them back in his treasure box that once held so many memories and dreams for the future. It will be hard today. I know it will and there is a huge piece of me that is dreading what I am about to do...but it is time. It is time to make some new memories out of the old ones.
I have decided to take my son's t-shirts, the ones that he collected over the years for various events that he loved to participate in, and cut them up and make a pillow for Christmas for each one of my children. I am choosing to call them "Jeffy Pillows".
Today, I will relive the time he crossed the finish line at state in track and brought his teammates to victory. How they were way behind in the relay and he peeled across that track as if his feet were on fire. How I kept screaming, "RUN! Baby! RUN!". I will see the crowd come to it's feet for my son and yell and chant for him. I will relive every moment on the track that day and many others.
Today, I will relive watching him play in endless basketball tournaments. The heat was always unbearable, but he loved the game. The sweat was unbearable, but he loved the game. Sometimes the other player's attitudes were unbearable, but he loved the game. And because of him...I grew to love the game too.
Today I will relive the young lady who insisted on buying him some brand names shirts for Christmas and how excited he was to have them. Even though we had bought him brand name shirts, the look on his face when he was able to say, "Mom, she got these for me!" I saw in his eyes the love he had for her and realized that I had lost my little boy forever, he was now going to be a man.
In my mind, I will see his face over and over again and I will weep.  I will weep for a son whom nobody would adopt and we never even hesitated because we wanted him to have a better life than foster care. I will weep for a son who gave us so many beautiful memories that the thought of not making anymore will surely pain me until the day I die. I will weep for a son who left the most beautiful memories with me the last week of his life. I will weep for a son who could have had the world at his feet, but chose instead to have heaven at his feet. But mostly I will weep because after today I will not be able to open that treasure box and selfishly wrap those t-shirts around my shoulders, sniff them, and bury my tears in them. After today, they will be his siblings. They will be able to hold them and love them and in essence hold and love him. Because, it is time.

It is time to put this part of my life away and go on. It is time to make new memories and wipe away the hurt of finding my son shot by his own hand. It is time to open his treasure box not to "find" him again, but to remember the child that he was and the good man he grew into despite all the bad. And finally, it is time that I let go of him. I loved Jeff so much. I still do. But today while he is enjoying heaven, I have eight other children, spouses, and grandchildren whom need me to make these pillows into new memories. And so today, that;s what I will do...