Boy Oh Boyers

It's Fall here, and the weather has been gorgeous. We've been spending a lot of time outside hiking, biking, and strolling. Fall lends itself to some really nice rules that Rowan loves to recite. "When the leaves have turned yellow or orange or brown, then they fall off the trees. Some of them will fall into the water if they are close enough to it. Otherwise they will fall onto the ground." This kind of learning is very conducive to Rowan's deep desire to understand how the world works -- it's clear to me that he loves knowing what to expect, and when things happen that he doesn't expect, he is certain that's because they have violated a rule. For example, this morning I put on a sweatshirt because it was chilly in the house. On the front of this shirt was a sticker of a snake that Rowan had placed last time I wore the sweatshirt (which was probably at least 6 months ago, and yes, apparently I put it away without washing it first). Anyway, Rowan wanted to put this snake sticker onto his own shirt, but when he pulled it off mine, it broke in half. He immediately had quite a forlorn expression, and said quietly, "When a snake is on a sticker, it is not supposed to break in half. It is supposed to stay together so a little boy can put it on his shirt."

There are other examples of trying to understand the world too. Yesterday in church we sang a song that had the word "grave" in it someplace, and this morning Rowan asked me what a grave is. I explained it's where a person's body goes when that person dies. I also explained as best I could about our spirits living on, and about how our faith in God relates to that, and then he said, "I know. After a person dies, their spirit goes to heaven. But there are no apples in heaven."

Just recently, I've really been enjoying contemplating how much about life is a mystery. I've also been recognizing how, in other ways, nondeterminism disturbs me and I sometimes would rather bury my head in the sand than admit something that I wish would follow orderly principles instead exhibits unpredictable behavior. It's going to be an interesting challenge, and a growth experience for me, to help Rowan work through his wishes that the world would obey the "rules" as he understands them.

Yesterday was my Grammies' birthday. If she were still alive, she would have wanted to be with me yesterday walking down the greenway with orange, red, and yellow leaves covering the trees, a nip of cool weather in the air, the dampness of a recent rain underfoot, and Rowan happily riding his tricycle showing off his ever-increasing strength and stamina. She would have wanted to be with me when Rowan and I spent almost half an hour in the swing together, working our way to the highest height either of us dared. She would have wanted to help us look for turtles and fish in the pond in front of us, and she would have filled her pockets with all the treasures Rowan found -- a beautiful leaf, an acorn, and a pine cone (and then she would have muttered some bad words about Grampies and how he loves to burn things like pine cones and how he gets the fire so big she thinks he must be a pyromaniac).

There are so many things Grammies loved. Trees were definitely one of them. She also loved taking the grandkids to swing at the park, and she loved the Air Force. She tied those to two things together by singing the Air Force song whenever she'd push us on the swings. This was often on the Air Force base near their house, where we could sit on the swings and watch the jets take off and land just across the road. The noise was deafening, and even from Grammies' and Grampies' house the sound of jets overhead could be heard at all hours of the day and night. They never minded it. Grammies regularly commented that it was music to her ears because it's the sound of people who love America working hard to keep us safe.

Another thing Grammies loved was being right. I came by this honestly, you see? ;-) My dissertation dedication reads,

To Mildred Elizabeth Newberry (1927–2008), my grandmother and best friend. Grammies, I wish you were still here so you could see that you were right all along. I did do it.

I guess most of all, my strongest memories are of how much she loved making her grandchildren happy. When we'd go on road trips or just out for a day to fish, it wasn't her own needs she looked after; it was ours. She'd visit amusement parks even though she never rode a single ride. She sat by the pool for hours while Julie and I swam even though Grammies herself never got in. She found happiness in our happiness.

Being able to see the world through Grammies' eyes helps me very often not to take things for granted. Remembering how exuberantly she enjoyed us helps me to exuberantly enjoy my own child. Remembering how staunchly she loved me helps me to love myself even when I let me down. Remembering her love of trees helps me to stop and take them into my soul even more. Thanks, Grammies, and happy birthday.