It's a funny thing to write about for sure, but I'm feeling aggravated. Maybe I shouldn't write about it, maybe I should keep all this bottled up inside. No, that's not me--I have to get this out or I'll blow up. I guess that's why I write. I could not write about it, but then I wouldn't be presenting my true self, I would be wearing a hat that said--I'm OK all the time--smiley face. And that isn't necessarily so. Sometimes things don't go my way, sometimes God has other plans. It doesn't mean that those plans are always going to make me happy, I think that's why I'm told to be content in all things. It isn't easy--if it was, He probably wouldn't have wasted His time telling us how to handle the tough times! I am thankful that He is patient with me. When I am sad, feeling blue, or just plain missing my family--He listens and consoles, without getting mad at me and making me feel bad. I know that He is always there for me. He knows my thoughts, so why not tell Him how I really feel? Why play games with God? At least that's what I think.
I'm exasperated today with the way life is right now--concerning my children and grandchildren. I do not like the fact that I don't have control over where, when and how long I can see them. They live too far away for my liking. I am dealing also with bouts of jealousy over friends and family members of mine who have their little families a stone's throw away and probably don't appreciate it. I'd like to throw a stone at them right now, but I won't. It wouldn't be nice. I'll keep my stones on the ground. For now anyway. I know that if I pick those stones up and give one a toss--many more stones should and most likely would be tossed right back at me. Let's not judge one another, OK? Let's leave that to God.
Basically, the bottom line is this--being 6 and 12 hours away from my grandkids is hard on me. It sucks. I hate it. I go to their homes or they come to mine and according to my husband, I am supposed to be thankful for the quality of time with them rather than the quantity of time with them. This is where I make rude noises at him and roll my eyes and wish that I could kick him but instead end up walking away crying. He doesn't understand. He never will. And yet he indulges me and makes sure that I get enough grandbaby time. Every couple of months I get to visit some (usually not all at the same time) of my grandkids--for a snippet of time. It's way too short of a visit. And then I spend the next couple hours of my time--another snippet--crying for my loss--whatever that is. My heart breaks, I feel bitterness seep in, resentment, anger, emptiness. I do not believe unless you are a long distance grandmother that you can even imagine the pain of driving away, waving at your grandchildren, tears rolling down your face, heart strings being stretched to their limit--wanting desperately to jump right out of that car and scoop them up in a great big ol' bear hug and say--hey, I'm not leaving you! No, unless you've lived it, you don't know. So don't judge me. Please. Give me my time to brood over the small little snippet of time that I have with my kids and their children. Eventually, I will have a grateful heart--one that says thank you God that I even have kids and grandkids. Thank you that they are still living, thank you that we live in the same country--I always have lots of thank you's after my pity party. Always.
I hope that my grandbabies--all 5 of them--realize the depth of my love for them. Each one an individual and each one deserving more than just a snippet of my time. I hope that they know that if I had my way, if I were queen of the world--I'd live close by, rock them every day, buy them an ice cream cone, read them a story and skip through the crunchy fall leaves holding hands with them forever--even if just for a snippet.
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