T-T: Talia Tales

"Pleasant words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones." Proverbs16:24, NIV

A burst of Christmas cheer arrived this afternoon when two-year-old Talia walked through the front door with her mama.

"I want to see Grandma!" (She calls her great grandma, "grandma" and her grandma "ga-ga").

She ran to the kitchen to hand-deliver a picture she had painted in water colors and an angel ornament with her a photo of herself in the center.

"We decided to deliver Grandma's Christmas present early this year," Rachel, Talia's mother explained. She knew how difficult the holiday season always was for my mom without my dad.

A week ago she called me up to ask if she and Talia could buy a little tree and decorate it with Grandma.

"Well, we do have a small tree already." I pointed out, "but I think Grandma would really love it if you came over and did that for her."

So, came they did...bringing T-T stories galore to keep us in stitches as they hung my ornaments from around the world on the little white tree.

"I like this one the best!" Talia declared when I gave her a painted ceramic cat to hang. She was not impressed with the more beautiful and exotic decorations.

"Talia, tell Grandma about the princess party. Remember how ... wanted to eat the purple door on her castle cake? Wasn't that funny?" Talia began to giggle," 'I want to eat the purple door!' " she mimicked her friend.

"T-T, where did you see Santa?"

"At daddy's work party," as she 'went up and down' in Grandma's rocking chair.

"She ran right past all the other bigger kids and jumped in Santa's lap!"

"She's not afraid of anything," Grandma marveled.

Of course, Talia had to do all the usual things she does in every visit-eat crackers, feed the dog his treats, and watch Elmo on Youtube, to name a few. The difference came in how she asked.

She didn't say "Crackers, please." as she would have before. She walked up to Grandma and said, "May I have a cracker, please?" very politely and all-grown up.

Just before she left, she observed Grandpa's picture on the wall.

"What's Grandpa doin'?" she asked.

"Uh, watching us," I replied, a little taken aback. I didn't even know she knew who her grandpa was!

"Grandpa looks real happy."

The photo, taken sometime during the last winter of dad's life, showed my father with a slight dreamy smile. He was wearing his winter jacket and favorite chauffeur's cap.

Talia's observation came as a sweet balm to Grandma's ears.

I think when we look at the picture, we see my father's undiscovered cancer, and the foreshadowing of his death. Talia sees only the serene face my father lived his life wearing.

It was exactly the right thing to say to my mother. Grandma replied, "That's your grandpa."

Talia's mama said, "Grandpa gave you the little bank where you keep your money, didn't he?"

"Yep."

Grandma thought for a moment, then went into her bedroom to get some coins for Talia to put in the tin replica antique car bank they had given her from her grandpa.

I guess Grandma wanted to express her pleasure and reinforce who Talia's grandpa was at the same time.

"These coins are for you to put in your bank," she said handing her a nickel, a penny and a dime.

"Okay," Talia replied, still rocking in the chair. She smiled her angelic smile.

It seemed a fair exchange to me: each one left richer because of the other.

Proverbs 17:6 says that, "Children's children are a crown to the aged."

This was certainly the case when Talia and Rachel swept into our home bringing their Christmas cheer this afternoon.

Leave Takings

As I mentioned yesterday, traveling has always been the easy part for me to do. But saying goodbye has upon occasion torn my heart out. I still remember a very poignant moment with my nieces. It has burned itself into my memory. The girls were still pretty young. I guess Rachel was seven, Emily, six. It was the end of August, 1988 after their first day back to school. I had come home for a high school reunion earlier, had a short visit, and was heading back to Indonesia the following day.

~~~~
I had spent the day with my nieces and two little kids that my sister also babysat, Christina and Jeremiah. The three children and I were seated on the living room floor. I recall we had just finished coloring.

"Emily, you always color so nicely in the lines," I complimented.

"I know."

I smiled. I love how kids acknowledge their talents with that supreme confidence.

"Who taught you how to do that?" I asked.

Emily lay on her belly, with her legs crossed in the air. She was very focused. "My daddy."

"Hey, everyone! how about a book? If we pick up this stuff, you can choose a book for me to read."

"Yay! Hurry up!" the girls cried.

"You pick all the broken crayons, and you pick the books " That was Emily, the little organizer, trying to tidy it as quickly as possible. After a flurry of activity, the kids were ready.

"Aunt Amy, sit here!" Rachel called out.

Emily plopped down on the other side of me. She peered into the book...

Christina stood up, her hands on her hips. "I want Aunt Amy to sit by me, too!"

Emily narrowed her eyes and placed a possessive hand on the book I was holding, "She's our Aunt Amy, not yours."

"Hey, hey, hey! None of that," I chided. "Let's sit in a circle so we can all be together and see the pictures. Besides, I am everybody's Aunt Amy."

We got on with the business of reading. I had a captive audience and really let my storytelling skills go wild. It was a fun, exciting time. I even recall that Jeremiah, an adorable, chubby toddler, wore a big wide grin. He looked from person to person and began to clap his hands as he picked up on the excitement in the room. Maybe my sister had brought him in to share in part of the fun. She always wanted to capitalize on positive experiences. I don't remember what book I read but I remember thinking it was a perfect end to an excellent afternoon.

Soon after, Christina and Jeremiah went home for the day. I stayed on with Rachel and Emily as it was almost dinnertime. We ate dinner and the girls had their baths. Soon it was time for them to go bed.

"Can I tuck them into bed, and say goodnight--and I guess, goodbye?" I asked her.

"Sure," she responded.

I sat down with Rachel and tucked her in. Rachel burst into big, noisy sobs. She just didn't understand why I had to leave. She lay in her bed sobbing and I sat holding her. I didn't have any words this time, no pat hotel plan. I teared up myself. It was all I could do not to cry in front of her. When I left her, she was sleepy and finally calm.

Next, I checked in on Emily, who had been waiting. She lay very, very quietly in her bed and didn't say much. But when I kissed her goodnight, I felt the hot tears that covered her face. She had been crying silently for some time and the hurt seemed to go even deeper.

"Honey, what's wrong?"

She struggled to get the words out, "How come you like them better than us?"

"How come I like who?"

"Those IN-DO-NEE-SIANS!" The words burst out with a torrent of feeling.

"Oh honey, I don't. I don't. I promise you."

"But you keep on going there."

How does a little girl grapple with such emotions? Emily reasoning abilities surprised me.

"I just work there."

"You're not even going to be here for my BIRTHday!" She, too, sobbed.

"Oh, Emily! When is your birthday?"

"I don't know. Ask my mommy!"

I wanted to laugh, but this little girl was so intense that I had to hide it.

We talked for a bit more until she felt better. I promised to write her a lot.

When I finally closed the door, I was an emotional wreck. This goodbye stuff had really taken its toll on me.

I told my sister about what happened, and she sighed, "They're overemotional. Remember it was the first day of school for them. You've been with them ever since. Emily rarely shows her emotions. And both of them really miss you when you're gone."

"I guess..."

I was still pretty shaken by the unexpected way they'd pulled on my heartstrings. In fact, so much so that I canceled a date with an old friend I had planned to meet up with. I just wanted to go to bed and wake up early to catch my flight out. I felt drained.

I found that I couldn't enjoy my flight back as I normally did. All I could think of was the little girls I had left behind. Of course, they woke up and went to school. Life was back to normal for them already. And it would be for me when I settled back into my job. I loved it all over again.

But I will never forget my encounter with their tears. Children have such an innocent way of showering us with honest emotion, in a way that adults rarely do. We keep it inside. Like my mom did for so many years each time I left. I think it got harder for my mother to hide it, though. A few years back I watched my mother walk away from me from inside the window at Erie International Airport. She slowly hobbled back to her car, leaning heavily on her cane. The sight of her stooped over made her appear so lonely that I was at once reminded of that long ago farewell scene with my nieces. I decided then that I would have to come home soon to live. Farewells has begun to hurt too much.