Quote from Forum Archives on November 12, 2006, 12:41 pm

Posted by: bigguyhereagain <bigguyhereagain@...>

"Her Little Boy"

 

    

She jumped up as soon as she saw the surgeon come out of the operating room. She said, "How is my little boy? Is he going to be all right? When can I see him"?

 

The surgeon said, "I'm sorry. We did all we could, but your boy didn't make it."

 

Sally said, "Why do little children get cancer? Doesn't God care any more? Where were you, God, when my son needed you"?

 

The surgeon asked, "Would you like some time alone with your son? One of the nurses will be out in a few minutes, before he's transported to the university."

 

Sally asked the nurse to stay with her while she said goodbye to son. She ran her fingers lovingly through his thick red curly hair. "Would you like a lock of his hair"? the nurse asked.

 

Sally nodded yes. The nurse cut a lock of the boy's hair, put it in a plastic bag and handed it to Sally.

 

The mother said, "It was Jimmy's idea to donate his body to the university for study. He said it might help somebody else. "I said no at first, but Jimmy said, 'Mom, I won't be using it after I die. Maybe it will help some other little boy spend one more day with his Mom.' She went on, "My Jimmy had a heart of gold. Always thinking of someone else. Always wanting to help others if he could."

 

Sally walked out of Children's Mercy Hospital for the last time, after spending most of the last six months there. She put the bag with Jimmy's belongings on the seat beside her in the car.

 

The drive home was difficult. It was even harder to enter the empty house. She carried Jimmy's belongings, and the plastic bag with the lock of his hair, to her son's room.

 

She started placing the model cars and other personal things back in his room exactly where he had always kept them. She lay down across his bed and, hugging his pillow, cried herself to sleep.

 

It was around midnight when Sally awoke. Laying beside her on the bed was a folded letter. The letter said:

 

"Dear Mom, I know you're going to miss me, but don't think that I will ever forget you, or stop loving you, just because I'm not around to say "I Love You." I will always love you, Mom. Even more with each day. Someday we will see each other again. Until then, if you want to adopt a little boy so you won't be so lonely, that's okay with me. He can have my room and old stuff to play with. But, if you decide to get a girl instead, she probably wouldn't like the same things us boys do. You'll have to buy her dolls and stuff girls like, you know. Don't be sad thinking about me.

 

This really is a neat place. Grandma and Grandpa met me as soon as I got here and showed me around some, but it will take a long time to see everything. The angels are so cool. I love to watch them fly. And, you know what? Jesus doesn't look like any of his pictures. Yet, when I saw Him, I knew it was Him. Jesus himself took me to see God! And guess what, Mom! I got to sit on God's knee and talk to Him, like I was somebody important. That's when I told Him that I wanted to write you a letter, to tell you goodbye and everything. But I already knew that wasn't allowed. Well, you know what Mom? God handed me some paper and His own personal pen to write you this letter. I think Gabriel is the name of the angel who is going to drop this letter off to you.

 

God said for me to give you the answer to one of the questions you asked Him: 'Where was He when I needed him'? "God said He was in the same place with me, as when His son Jesus was on the cross. He was right there, as He always is with all His children. Oh, by the way, Mom, no one else can see what I've written except you. To everyone else, this is just a blank piece of paper.

 

Isn't that cool? I have to give God His pen back now. He needs it to write some more names in the Book of Life. Tonight I get to sit at the table with Jesus for supper. I'm sure the food will be great.

 

Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. I don't hurt anymore. The cancer is all gone. I'm glad, because I couldn't stand that pain anymore and God couldn't stand to see me hurt so much either. That's when He sent The Angel of Mercy to come get me. The Angel said I was a Special Delivery! How about that?!

 

Signed with Love from God, Jesus and Me.

Unknown

 

"Gramma Jan"

 

When I drove into the park, I noticed and recognized Grace right away.  She sat on a bench watching the children romp and play.  Why did she have to come? I thought.  Couldn't she let me be "Gramma" for the day?  I'd waited so long.

 

When I walked up, Grace looked at me tenderly.  "I've thought about you so much these last few years."

 

She was constantly in my mind, too - the woman who is grandmother to my daughter's child.

 

My mind went back to when Amy, just seventeen, told me she was pregnant.  I had struggled as a single mom after Amy and Jennifer's dad left us seven years before, and I thought the worst was behind us until that day.

 

Amy decided to place the baby for adoption.  I agreed it was the right thing for this confused, young girl, and I was touched that she asked me to help her choose the parents through an open adoption process.  I was fine until I saw the ultrasound, the life growing inside Amy.  Then it hit me.  In a few months I would have to let go, say good-bye to my granddaughter.

 

Leslie, the prospective adoptive mom, assured me, "We want you to be a part of her life."  But what role could I possibly have?  Leslie's mother, Grace, waited sixty-three years to spoil a grandchild.  How much would she want me involved?

 

After little Nicole was born, Amy insisted on bringing her home for a week.  "I need time to say good-bye."  Those were special days, days to make memories with her first child, hold her, sing to her, write her a loving letter and then let her go.  Yet, I couldn't even cuddle her as I wanted, fearful that bonding with this child would only increase my sorrow when she left us.

 

The first time I met Grace, she came to my house for the adoption ceremony.  "I know you'll love her very much," I said, stiffly, biting my lip as they were about to leave with the baby.  Grace said nothing but just hugged me.  After everyone left, Amy and Jennifer couldn't stop crying, and I kept assuring them it was the right thing to do, that blessings would come from it.

 

Amy's tears started coming right away when she shared her story with other pregnant girls.

 

The first year I saw Nikki often, fussing over her like any grandparent does, buying frivolous department store dresses she'd only wear once.  Then it happened - the family moved to Florida.  What would I do now?

 

Leslie promised endless pictures and videos of special moments, but what did it matter?  I was bonded with Nikki, and they were whisking her away.  How would she ever get to know me at three thousand miles away?

 

The years went by, and as I tore open every letter I ached as I put the photos in an album.  Why did Nikki have to look exactly like Amy?  Suddenly, I was struck with baby radar, tuning in to every toddler with brown eyes and dark curls, struggling to squash the tears.

 

Then came the telephone call.  The family was coming to California for a visit.  Would I like to meet them at the park?  Of course!  All week I was as anxious as a grasshopper.  It had been five years!

 

 As my car sped down the freeway, I wondered, would Grace be there?  Was it selfish to hope not?  Couldn't I have Nikki to myself just for a few hours and make believe I was her only grandmother?

 

Nearing the off ramp, I thought, how will Nikki respond to me?  I'm just a stranger to her.  Should I hug her or play it cool?

 

"She knows she's adopted," Leslie had told me earlier on the phone.  "We're not sure now much she understands, but to her, you are her Gramma Jan."

 

What a delightful, loving child I met that day.  We played "hide n' seek" and fed the ducks.  She sat on my lap and let me fuss with her ponytail.  Grace didn't say much.  She sat quietly in the background and let me relish those precious hours.

 

In the afternoon, she nudged my side.  "You've done better than I thought you would, Jan.  I know how hard this must be for you."

 

The tears stung.  Oh, Grace, this is making me cry.

 

"She's a special child, Jan.  She's such a blessing to me."

 

It was easy to see.  Nikki was secure, adored by her father and thrilled with two little brothers.  (Six months after the adoption, Leslie was miraculously pregnant.)

 

"Please come and see us in Florida when you can," Keith said as he gave me a big bear hug.  It was as if God reached down with comforting arms to say, This day was my gift to you, Jan.  She will know you, and you will be an influence in her life.  Just be patient.

 

 As Grace said her good-byes to me, she glanced over at Nikki feeding the squirrels.  "Thank you," she said, squeezing my hand.

 

 She was thanking me?

 

 I pondered that for a moment, then I understood.  Nikki was a gift to Grace from God, a gift that came directly through me.  Sitting back to watch me connect with Nikki was Grace's way of honoring me.

 

To think I almost missed the blessing.

That day in the park I finally let go.

 

As I glanced back at Nikki chasing another squirrel, I put my arm around Grace.  "Thank you for having room in your heart to let me be 'Gramma Jan.'"

By Jan Coleman

 

Have a Blessed Day

Dave and Barbara

 

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