My favorite child.

So, today I was reading about a favorite child. I've thought about this a lot and have wondered where that saying came from, you know, the one about parents not having favorites.

It's so not true.

I grew up in a lot of different circumstances. At one happy point of my life I had eight siblings... there were nine children in our family, plus two parents. They call them "super families" now a days, and ours was really super! Super fun, super busy, super noisy at the dinner table. It was great! At another point of my life, I was the only child.

I've been the youngest, the oldest and the middle child. I knew I was never the favorite, but somehow it didn't really matter all that much. MY favorite, was being part of that huge family; there was always someone there to love and be loved by and I knew, from my youngest days, that it was exactly what I wanted to give my own children.

Enter 1982, after visiting a doctor to figure out why the whole "baby" thing wasn't working for us, I was told very bluntly (and without much tact, I might add) that I had a one in five million chance of ever having a child. "In short", the doctor told me, "it would take a miracle."

For someone who had lived the previous 25 years in so much hope and longing, it was pretty devastating. However, thankfully, that wasn't the end of the story. After 15 years of intensive treatments, God was kind enough to grant 4 miracles.

Given that, I have a favorite child. In fact, to be completely honest, I have four favorite children. It goes something like this.

In January of 1985, (a full 5 weeks after my due date) Clarke was born and instantly became my favorite child in the history of the whole universe. He was AMAZING and I seriously couldn't get enough of him. I never wanted to put him down, I watched his every breath, it seemed, and marveled at his general "amazingness". I'd been wanting this baby for a very long time and when I finally held him in my arms I thought my soul would explode with happiness. I don't think he ever cried for the first few months. I was always there at the first hint of a whimper. There's nothing really quite like your first child. Everything they do is new and, consequently, enthralling. I wanted to be everything I could for him. My entire universe revolved around his little baby self. As a child, he was the one who continually brought me little wildflower bouquets that he'd made all by himself. Hello... if that doesn't have favorite written all over it, then I don't know what does. As a toddler, Clarke also threw the most amazing tantrums! Ha ha. I never knew a child could be so "stubborn" (as people would say). I soon learned that this supposed "stubborness" was only a toddler style manifestation of persistence and determination - admirable characteristics by any standard. At the time, I wondered why he would need those qualities in his life... Then, this past week, as I watched him graduate from college, at the top of his class... while working full time the whole way through... going to school full time... being a husband and even endlessly getting up with the baby(ies) in the middle of the night so his wife could get enough rest... I thought back to those younger days. All I can say is "WOW"! I'm so proud of him and so thankful for all that determination (even the toddler manifestation stuff). I could never have done what he has already accomplished with his life. He is so smart and good and strong and, truly, still amazing to me... I suspect that he always will be.

In December 1985, when Clarke was a mere 11 mos old, Savannah made her miraculous and quite unexplainable appearance into the world, 3 weeks early. "Irish twins", they call them, two babies born in the same year. She was anxious to get here and start her journey. As I held her in that hospital bed in the wee hours of the morning, just the two of us alone, I could feel this incredible and overpowering love permeating from her little baby self, as though it were a warm and tangible glow. It was the most amazing feeling in the whole world. She seemed completely as a being of generous love. As a child, Savannah seemed to love everyone unconditionally, good or bad, familiar or foreign. She was always there with a sympathetic heart, a hug, and listening ear. During the most difficult years of my life, she was my best friend and the softest, kindest, sweetest person I could ever know. Her capacity to love is unbounded. She is intelligent, feisty, beautiful and strong... as well as my one and only daughter. We share a bond that only a mother and her only daughter can understand and she is my favorite.

In January 1990, after a very rocky twin pregnancy, my little Barry was born and I brought my baby boy safely home. He was the sweetest, cutest little guy! Always smiling, adventurous and, soon, climbing every surface of the house that could be scaled. I loved him so much I thought my heart would explode. Barry is my farmer! He is so special to me in a way that, really, only he will ever understand. As a child, he broke everything he could, but as an adult, he's so great at fixing anything he can. Barry loves the dirt... and it loves him back. When I do his laundry, I have to run the washer through an empty cycle just to get all the residue out of it. :o) As odd as that sounds, coming from him, it is somehow charming. He was such a special gift, a heavenly connection that no one else will really ever understand. He is handsome and tall, amazing and good and, yes, my favorite. I'm so thankful that he decided to be my son, somewhere in the vast heavens of "before". Life would never be the same without him.

In October 1993, my last, adorable and amazing little baby was born... Kamaron. There is something about your last child that can't be replaced. You stand in this uncomfortable place between the beginning and the end of everything that has defined your life for such a long era. You, or at least I, find myself tenaciously clinging to that identity, reluctant to let go of all the happy years, those times when I got to be the integral center of someone's universe. I enjoyed it more than words can explain. That being said, it would be obvious why my last child would be my favorite, but Kamaron is truly amazing in a lot of other ways... starting with before he was even born. I know a lot of people would never believe this, but Kamaron began appearing to people while I was barely pregnant with Savannah. It was interesting and intriguing and very odd. I was threatening to miscarry (an almost universal case with my pregnancies) and he was concerned. He was so amazing. I know I've used that word a lot, but how else do you say it? Awesome, unbelievable, wonderful, marvelous, incredible, astonishing, fascinating, surprising, beautiful... they are all synonyms for the same idea. As a pre-mortal being he was so valiant and good and true, strong and confident, noble and right. As a baby, he snuggled into my shoulder and seemed to just sort of melt into my being. Now that he is nearly all grown and learning how to re-become that person that he was before, I have to look back and just appreciate the kind person that he is. He was my easiest child to raise. He is mellow and gentle and peaceful, full of dreams and ideas for how he will make the world a better and more comfortable place for everyone else in it. He is my wonderful favorite.

I could go on for a very long time about the amazing qualities of my favorite child, all four of them, but the day is only so long and I have to be ready for a flight and a road trip tomorrow... time is short today. I hope they, each, understand all of the facets of why they are my favorite... as they truly are, each and every one of them in their own right.

I have loved being a mother... all 26 years, 3 months, 22 days, and (as of this writing) 14 minutes of it. I'm so thankful that my children chose my home to come to and my life to bless with their awesome selves. I wish there could have been more of them, but maybe God decided to stop with just the most amazing four. I'm thankful for my daughter in law, who is also, truly, amazing and the little granddaughters that make my heart burst with joy.

Life is good... and so very, very amazing!

In Another Life...

I always wanted to grow up and marry a farmer. Ask anyone who has known me since, oh, I don't know, about the age of three and they will tell you it's true.

I came to this knowledge quite early in life.

It happened one day, while traveling down the Imperial Highway, bordered by rows of green "something", lettuce or cabbages perhaps, I'm not sure of the crops since I was scarcely a toddler. I put my hands on the window in wonder and love, caressing the glass, as if it might bring that beautiful scenery closer.

That was it... the moment I knew my personal destiny. Do you ever feel as if some things are just meant to be? I do.

I never did marry the farmer, but God was kind enough to give me one in the form of a son, and he made sure I found the farm of my primordial dreams.

Tonight as I sit quietly alone, I can't help but reflect over the past.

Outside, the tree frogs are chirping placidly in the brook beyond the orchard and the sun in starting to set over a yonder hill. It's time to lock up the hens, pour some milk for the barn cats and take a moment to breathe in the solitude.

Scarlet and lavender hues begin to kiss the previously azure sky, somehow blending the colors together as if on some Divine pallet of wispy cirrus vapor.

All around, the birds are singing avian hymns in the trees, like a choir of tiny angels in a temple paradise. The air is moist and cool, the wind barely discernible against my face, and the grass, having long last emerged from the snow, is newly green with life under my feet.

I step past the pretty Jonquils emerging in the little graveyard, the holy ground holding the remains of a pioneer mother, her infant son and toddler boy, resting not far from the brother, who in years past labored hard in the fields with his scythe and plow. They are all in another place now, hopefully one of peace.

Above me, the limbs on the trees are laden with buds, swollen and round, ready to give birth to their blossoms and leaves.

It is spring, a season of resurrection and hope, of beauty and joy.

It is my home.