goodly parents

I was born of goodly parents.

My sweet little Mom has arthritis so badly in her hands that she could qualify for disability. But she keeps working at her full-time job, five days a week. She kept working all last year throughout her cancer treatment, only missing days when she really, really couldn't get out of bed. As part of this treatment they removed the lymph nodes in her left arm. She has to wear a special sleeve that is like an ace bandage and has limited mobility in that arm.

That sweet Mom made these black apple dolls for my girls this year. She's spent months working late at night, after a long day at work, crafting these beautiful dolls. Despite the pain and soreness caused by this handiwork, she did it anyways. The girls don't understand that sacrifice, but I want to document it so that they'll know one day just how much their Gramma loves them.


Truthfully, I didn't remember how hard something like this would be for my mom to do until my Faux Mom (you know, my Aunt who nursed me when I was a baby) reminded me on Christmas. She told me that she had been at my parent's house late one night last week and my mom was feverishly trying to finish the dolls. My dad was on the phone with FedEx Kinkos making sure how late he could drop them off and the package would still get here on time.


She also made aprons for each of us girlies, and they're fancy little ditties.

She also made some special things for The Little Master. Each night as we tuck him in, we sing to him a variation of "You are like a Star Shining Brightly." She handwrote the words to the song, drew him a little star, attached it to a beautiful glass star ornament, and pinned it all to the two star pillowcases that she sewed for him.

My dad has had long conversations with the little guy over the past few months about a toy that he really, really wanted, but he had already maxed out his one request from Santa. Sure enough, Papa made sure that "little Grimlock" was waiting for him on Christmas morning.

It's not the things they made and purchased that make them good parents and grandparents. It's that they know us. They know our hearts' desires. They worry about us and think about us endlessly. They are protectors of our secrets, wishes, and dreams. They accepted Don into our family without a moment's hesitation and have encircled him into their hearts. They have always made my children feel like they are of upmost importance to them, more important than a good night's sleep or a comfortable seat off the playroom floor.

I know my parents love me, despite our disagreements large and small. I know that makes me lucky. I know that I am blessed and fortunate. I am grateful for them and their continued sacrifices.