One friend deals with family trauma. Another one struggles with having to carry on while her good friend faces brain surgery in another state. A person I met on the plane waits for a new set of lungs.
Still, I wish to reminisce about my snowy week in Bartlesville, Oklahoma.
My son-in-law demonstrated his superb winter driving skills getting to and from the Tulsa airport on February 2. After the grueling drive, we discovered that the highway we had traveled on was officially closed. Maybe it was a good thing that there were no blockades or signs to tell us that.
Deep snow, iced-over roads, and sub-zero temperatures kept us home once we got there. But that was just fine by me. It meant more time with Shawn and Dana and Benjamin. Naturally, I wish to focus on Benjamin, though we grown-ups enjoyed deep conversation, a good movie (August Rush), time in worship while Dana sang and played her guitar, and delicious home-cooked meals.
So, on to Benjamin, the boy who keeps enriching my life. He has discovered laughter. Dangle his fuzzy bright yellow (or hot pink, or deep purple, or lime green, or fluorescent orange) monkey in front of him, and you have instant smiles and laughter as he bats it around. Hold a hand mirror up and he unabashedly enjoys his image reflected back at him. Simply sit in the room and he starts a “conversation” with you: huge smile, wide eyes, body tensed all the way to his toes, and arms up with palms out as if he is surprised. Then he adds in his fake laugh—“ha ha ha ha ha”—which morphs into the real thing as you respond with blowing a kiss or smiling or laughing.
Thanks to his parents, he has also discovered books. Dana perches on the floor with him, a stack of half a dozen of his favorites next to her. Benjamin sits in her lap, intently focused, and eagerly helps turn each glossy cardboard page as she reads. He pats some of the pages, especially those with textures, and licks the others. He really likes the orange giraffe, but the blue and white striped monkey is his favorite.
And, of course, he continues his love affair with music. Sing a song, clap your hands. Watch him throw around his musical toys, push their buttons with the palms of his hands, and swipe them into action with his feet. See him rock to the beat, carefully hold out his hand for you to clap between your own, and squeal with delight.
There is both tremendous joy and poignant sorrow in all of this. At twenty months old, most children are running, feeding themselves, and getting into all sorts of mischief. Benjamin has not yet crawled and is still developing the eye-hand coordination and fine motor skills needed for feeding himself or holding a cup. He swallows but often ends up with more milk on his face and bib than down his throat. He can eat foods with some texture now—he has plenty of teeth!—though Mommy and Daddy have to watch that he doesn’t hoard in his cheeks the pieces that need chewing. He has learned to lie still as Dana straps him into his stander for a half hour every day. (Bearing weight is important for helping his bones grow.) One evening, I get to see his army crawl: Dana beckons him with a string of Christmas tree lights, and Shawn positions Benjamin’s legs, placing those cute size four feet to push off—right, then left, then right, then left . . . against Shawn’s shins. Slowly, all three inch across the living room, Dana and Shawn cheering on their sweet son.
As I spend time with Benjamin and see the time and love his parents invest in him, I savor each moment. My heart swells with enormous pride and sheer delight. He enriches my very soul and reminds me of the value of each and every person in this world. When life intervenes and sorrows multiply, I can still think of Benjamin and never stop smiling even if I’m crying inside.
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