Rebekah Speaks

We are strange creatures, we moms. Initial momhood is approached with the greatest care. Then we cry. All the latest and greatest paraphernalia is gathered. Closets are crammed with more outfits than a child could possibly wear fearing dislocated arms and legs from the constant redressing of the babe. A "paci" that falls on the floor is boiled until the rubber melts into a disgusting blob. We watch them slumber. We cry. Every label is studied to make sure optimal nutrition is achieved and visits to the pediatrician planned out in orchestrated organizational brilliance. And then they go to school. We cry some more. Spelling lists. Projects. Cupcakes at two o'clock in the morning for the next day's party. Playground bumps and bruises. Hurt feelings. He said, she said. Clandestine notes written in algebra. The repercussion of said note being found by the teacher. Soccer practice. Late games. Uniforms to clean and desperate searches for the one shoe that always goe

A senior woman walked into the locker room at the YMCA. She was petite, about five-foot two. Her thin arms and legs suggested a previously trim and youthful figure despite a little belly bulge. Her short gray hair was a no-nonsense cut; a wash and go style. Though she did not shuffle, her gait was slow and methodical. Madeline, as I choose to call her, entered as I stood drying my hair. Madeline was not the only senior in the locker room this morning. A water exercise class is offered, appealing to these older woman in their one-piece bathing suits and rubberized bathing caps. Most come wearing their suits underneath their clothes, making changing an easy task. Such was the case with Madeline. But as the other ladies vacated the locker room for the soothing waters, Madeline remained. When I first noticed her, she was standing beside me and gazing into the mirror. She had taken off her blouse, suit beneath, but had yet to remove her pants, shoes and socks. I heard her speak and turned

It has taken me a week to pack. With a seven-day cruise to the Western Caribbean on the docket, even Seth is impressed that we, "the most boring people in the world," would actually go do something cool. I laid out all my outfits and thoughtfully placed the appropriate necklaces and earrings on top of each outfit. When satisfied, each of the jewelry selections got tucked away in a zippered baggie and labeled with a Sharpie.  "Purple dress," "Wide teal pants," and so forth. I was quite proud of my progress. The next step was to make selections for my beloved as well. Gary never relishes packing. Besides, I needed to make sure his black jacket and pants made it on board. No eating in the back room for us! However, my biggest challenge was to figure out how to get it all packed in just two carry-ons. I'm so cheap--no, frugal--that I hate paying the airline checked bag fee. So, I had to muster up all my deep-dwelling organizational talents. I had to pri

"With perseverance, the snail reached the ark." Charles Spurgeon It was in my Mother's living room when we gathered together for an after-Christmas gift exchange. Long gone were the days of hastily unwrapped toys and coloring books from Grandma. Rather, each was handed an envelope and a small package. In the envelope was a check; a welcome gift for the four college-aged, cash-poor kids. The other was a small gift book entitled "Life's Little Book of Wisdom for Students." The book just cried out for its pages to be fanned and interesting quotes voiced aloud. One after another, the kids played the role of wise sage. Many profundities rolled off their lips but one stopped us dead in our tracks. "With perseverance, the snail reached the ark." It took just a moment of silence before we understood the depth of meaning. We rolled in laughter imagining the sight of the tiny mollusk inching ever forward. Unfortunately, that crazy phrase has also been ro