On Birth and Death and Life

Today is my son’s birthday. R is the middle child of my three amazing kids and such a complex amalgamation of the characteristics of both a middle and a first born.  This tracks because my three have always resisted stereotypes and lived life as the very people they are created to be. 

 R is smart and kind and adventurous. He is such a present and caring son and brother and husband and friend and daddy.  He wants everyone to be happy and if he figures out how to make that work I want to learn that magic from him. 

 He has been an entrepreneur since he was  in third grade, where he launched his first two business ventures.  One was making and selling Creepy Crawlers (if you know you know and if you don’t you can look it up).  He kept an inventory of these gelatinous insects on hand and for a price ranging from a dime to  fifty cents you could choose one from the collection.  Or, you could place a custom order - selecting your particular bug and the colors you wanted. Those cost a little more and you had to wait on them in his production line.   Just like buying a car.   

Robby also learned that he could purchase a large bag of candy and sell the individual pieces and make a profit.  Both of these enterprises happened at school until his teacher finally told me that as industrious as it was, the playground probably wasn’t the place for it. 

A couple of years later he launched the wildly successful “Rent a Robert” in our neighborhood, where he was available to bring in your mail, mow your lawn, walk your dog, or just check on the house while you were away.  The kid had moxie.  He still does.  I’m so lucky to be his momma and can’t wait to celebrate with him tonight.  

Whenever I have the chance to celebrate my kids, it’s so natural to reflect back on their lives.  On who they were as they came into the world.  (R was a ten and a half pound bundle of fun!) I think of the ways they walk on the earth, the ways they make a difference, the choices they have made for themselves, and the ways I have grown as a person by knowing them.  I’ve said this before, but it’s worth repeating:  I would not have come through this season at all intact emotionally or physically without the care of these incredible people who call me momma.  

I was reflecting this week on the challenges that I mentioned a couple of weeks ago that rose up in my work life.  One of the pieces that I can’t make sense of is that what is happening seems unnecessarily cruel when one considers that I am less than nine months a widow.  A friend noted:  “because yeah, that’s how the Bible says we are supposed to treat widows.”  (Thanks, Grant).  And my therapist’s response to my wondering was “You look fine. So you are a fair target in their minds.”  

What I know is that in this season, every challenge, every disappointment, every hardship, hits like grief first.  And that makes them harder and it reactivates the primary grief and the associated trauma and, honestly, I’ve lost some faith in people this way.  

Last Thursday I tried to take a day off, but was mostly unsuccessful.  I did manage to keep the appointment I had for a massage, the first in about ten months.  I can tell that my body is holding all of this pain - the grief and trauma and fear and uncertainty that I apparently don’t show on the outside.  After the massage I showered and slipped into sweatpants and went to my  therapy appointment without make up.  M said as I came in “whoa….who is this?  You look so different from the polished professional who usually walks in here after a day in the office.  You look about 10 years younger, too.”  Maybe that is the version of me I need to tend for awhile - maybe she won’t look like such an easy target.  

For this day, I’m remembering that all of us - you and I and the hard and difficult people we encounter and the children we love and the people who cross our paths each day - we come into this world without the intention of harming others and then something happens.  But there are also people like the birthday boy today and his siblings and so many of you who are so full of grace and love who fill the world with hope.  Who share light readily.  Who value truth and peace.  Who fight for justice.  Whose first instinct is love.  I am thankful for each of you.  You restore my own hope in the goodness of humanity.

Happy birthday, Robby.  I’m so lucky to be your Momma.