I know, I know. I’m super delinquent. I could offer you rounds of excuses, but you’ve heard them all before. So today I’m just going to barrel ahead with what’s been on my mind.
If you’re a blog reader, you’ve probably seen this blog trend for the month of October: 31 days of “Back to Basics” blogging. If you’re reading this, you probably know that 31 days of consecutive blogging is probably more than I can handle at this juncture. However, I’ve been reading lots of blogs and been reminded daily of the grace and joy we are given through simple experiences with our friends and family.
All of this loveliness has reminded me of one of the sweetest moments of the summer, in my recollection. I think I might have written a few months ago about the 80th birthday celebration we had for my grandmother. I can still remember our trip to New York City for Grammy’s 70th birthday. We really blew it out with a suite at the Plaza, tickets to “The Lion King” on Broadway, fancy dinners, a trip to “The Today Show” and LOTS of shopping. It was probably one of the most fun weekends of my teenage years. But this year she turned 80 and wanted nothing more than a special dinner with all of her family.
We had a really beautiful dinner at a fantastic Italian restaurant just a few neighborhoods away from where my grandparents have lived for nearly their entire lives. The room was beautiful, the table was full, the food was excellent and I think we avoided ruining the dining experience of the patrons around us. Family dinners are always awesome. But what made this particular dinner even more special was the toast offered by my grandfather.
My mom and her sisters tell stories about growing up with my grandfather and the strict discipline he enforced in their house. There were bedtimes and punishments and requirements that seem so out of character for my laid-back, generous grandfather. Pop-Pop is always the first one to wrap his grandkids up in bear hugs and slip twenty dollar bills into our palms. He’s filling up coolers with Snapple Iced Teas for long car trips and always offering to fix anything that’s broken. Apparently the years have softened my mom’s rigid father into the loving grandfather that I know. So I wasn’t entirely surprised when he rose to make a toast to my grandmother. What did surprise me were the loving words he had for her.
He began by thanking my grandmother for giving him his family. For all of the people sitting around the table who had so wonderfully enriched their lives. For being the matriarch of our family and giving us a beautiful example of love. Then he went on to recite a few lines from one of Rodgers & Hammerstein’s most famous musicals, “The Sound of Music.”
A bell’s not a bell ‘til you ring it,
A song’s not a song ‘til you sing it,
Love in your heard wasn’t put there to stay,
Love isn’t love ‘til you give it away.
Then he looked right at her and said, “And Dot, that’s still the way I feel about you.”
It was so simple, but so honestly heartfelt and tender, that I (of course) was immediately crying. I could just picture my gentle grandfather sitting up in their bedroom memorizing the lyrics to recite at dinner. The fact that he loves this woman enough after 60 years of marriage to memorize song lyrics for her just overflows my heart with joy. That’s the kind of happiness I want to remember this month.
So for the next 14 days, I’ll be thinking about simple moments, even if I’m not blogging about them. And just four short days after that, I’ll be moving back to Pittsburgh—the biggest simple joy of all. And hopefully a source of more consistent blogging.
Until then.
To giving love away,
Lia
No comments:
Post a Comment