In Preparation for Takeoff

by Carrie Lee Grinstead

The plane was delayed at LAX due to bad weather somewhere in the Midwest. Carrie and Becky were buckled into seats 27 A and B. Anyone could tell, just by looking, that they were mother and daughter. They were more alike than 17 year old Becky would ever admit. Carrie found it surprisingly peaceful sitting, staring out the window. Planes were lined up, waiting.  It was odd to see them there; engines on, filled to capacity and not moving.

Carrie’s mind flashed on a memory she had long ago forgotten.  She was a young mother returning to work after maternity leave.  Becky, as a baby was strapped into her infant carrier in the passenger seat of the Toyota. Carrie noticed that each time she glanced down, Becky’s baby face would be staring up at her, studying her. Even at two months Becky seemed to be so serious.  Maybe it was the way she held her eyebrows. You could tell she was thinking, trying to fit together the puzzle pieces of life.

It surprised Carrie how quickly and deeply attached she had become to this little being.  The intense feelings started even before Becky’s birth. Carrie was not one you would have predicted to have a strong maternal instinct. But, she actually enjoyed much of the pregnancy, experiencing everyday life in a sort of amused, distracted manner while focusing on the creation occurring within.  Both Carrie and young daddy, Eric, were so
thrilled with everything Becky did. It was not just love that Carrie felt, it was an all out, over the top, crush. She could have been a teeny bopper again staring at pictures of Mickey Dolenz in Tiger Beat magazine.  Who would have predicted that two, thirty year old professional adults could experience the intensity of that kind of emotion? But they did, not just once, but again and again with the birth of Becky’s two younger brothers.

Nostalgia struck again with another memory of walking with Eric around the neighborhood of little cottage houses in which they lived as a young couple. Eric and Carrie would play a game of what if while they walked. ‘What if we won the lottery? What would we do? What if the baby’s a girl? What would we want her to be like?  Eric’s sweet answer, “Like you.”  But Carrie pictured lots of characteristics she would want in a daughter. Funny, that as wonderful as those characteristics were, none of them came close to the reality that was Becky.  God’s creations are so much more perfect than anything humanity can imagine.

Becky wasn’t an easy kid to parent. Strong willed and intense, unwilling to yield to unauthorized authority, she marched through life. The humor helped her, the ability to laugh at life kept things in perspective. God’s gracious intervention was really what saved her. A spirit as intense as Becky’s is powerful in either direction.  Fortunately for her parents, and
probably, the rest of the world, she was walking in the light. There’s something about her, Carrie thought, an inner drive that Carrie herself never possessed. The courses she took in school, the varsity sports with ridiculously demanding coaches, Carrie wondered why she didn’t just quit, what was it all for?  God must have major plans for this kid. And now she was leaving for the Naval Academy, three thousand miles from home.

Carrie had insisted on accompanying her on this initial trip to Annapolis. She knew that the desire to see her daughter off was more out of her own need than Becky’s. Becky would probably not allow picture taking after walking through the Academy gates. Carrie considered attaching herself to Becky’s legs as she left.  She smiled as she pictured Becky confidently shuffling past the midshipmen explaining “Oh, that, on my legs, that’s just my mom, don’t mind her.”

That vision transformed again to the picture of infant Becky in the car seat on the way to the baby-sitter. Why was she remembering that now?  It wasn't her appearance, Becky had grown hair and stretched five feet since then. Carrie realized that she recognized the feeling she had experienced then. It was that same old I don't want to, I really can't let go feeling. She silently discussed the situation with God. ‘If I had trouble trusting a daycare provider to take care of my baby while I worked, how can I be expected to release her into an unfeeling, dangerous world?’

Carrie's musings were interrupted by an announcement over the plane's speakers. “The captain has turned on the fasten seat belt signs in preparation for takeoff. Please make sure that your seat belts are securely fastened and that your seat back is in an upright and locked position.”  Carrie glanced at the beautiful young woman seated beside her and quietly said a prayer of gratitude for the gift of being allowed to accompany her on
her journey.

This article is copyrighted by the author. All Rights Reserved. No part of this article may be reprinted without permission of the author. ©Copyright 2002

The Watch
By Susan Meyers

Hannah looked down at the watch she cradled gently in her right hand and unconsciously bit her bottom lip. It felt silly to be crying over a thing, an object that had no feelings to love her back.

She sat at her dressing table as the fading light day peeked softly through the shades of the window behind her, reflecting a golden glow in the mirror in front of her. Reaching forward she turned on the lamp.

Pale pink light shimmered in its beaded shade, making her features seem softer, almost girlish looking. She didn't care to look at herself; however, she'd only turned the lamp on to see the watch better. It had a slim, silver band; the kind that had been popular a little over 30 years ago. It had been the first anniversary present Jack had ever given her. Her first thought had been "how extravagant," but the glow in his eyes as she'd took it out of the first real jewelry box she'd ever opened, had precluded her from chastising him.

"Can't have the teacher being late for school, can we?" He'd said with that little crooked grin of his. They'd eaten beans and cornbread for the rest of the month, but neither had complained. They were young and starting their life together. Deep love made everything seem romantic. Now after 32 years the watch had stopped. Hannah supposed that was a long time for a watch to run especially one that had not been expensive by most people's standards. She supposed it had gotten tired, the way people did, and just didn't want to wind up and start anymore. "Forgive me, Lord," she whispered, "I know dwelling on what I no longer have seems so ungrateful in the light of all that you have given me."

Martin entered the bedroom and as if somehow sensing her mood, did not turn on the main light, but instead walked over and laid his hands lovingly on her shoulders. "What is it, love?" Why are you crying?" "Nothing." She quickly wiped at the tears that still gathered in her eyes. "It's just a silly nothing."

She could smell his aftershave as he leaned over her head to see what she held in her hand. "Is something wrong with your watch?"

"It just stopped running, that's all." She tried a short laugh. "Kind of like the old man's grandfather clock in the song, huh?"

He rubbed her shoulders, feeling the tension bundled up in them. "A morbid thought, if you really think about it. I hope its not ticking the years of your life."

"Of course not." She laid the watch down on the table. Then reaching up with both hands, she brought his face down so she could kiss him. "It was just marking sentimental time, not real time." She explained after letting him go. Carefully picking up the watch back, she opened a small drawer and put it inside. She then shut the drawer with finality. "I need a new watch anyway. One I don't have to wind every morning. That was so old-fashioned."

But he understood. "It won't be the same as having the watch Jack gave you." It wasn't a question and she didn't take it as one.

"Nothing last's for ever, right?" She stood up and linked her arm in his. "Come on, I'm in the mood for a nice, long walk."

Later that evening as Hannah took her shower, Martin took the watch out of the drawer. He held it in his palm and stared down at it. His emotions were mixed. Hannah had been married to Jack for 20 years and widowed by him for four more before she had married Martin. Although she never gave him any reason to feel she loved him less than dearly, he'd always felt second best to Jack. There was no doubt in his mind which husband she would be with if she had a choice. But that knowledge hadn't stopped him from loving and cherishing her for the last 4 years. "Dear God," he whispered, "please help me not to be selfish. I am so thankful for her, please help me to be a big enough man to show it. In Your Son's name, Amen." He put the watch in his pocket.

Her garden had always been one of Hannah's favorite places. Out there among the rosebushes, with the sun shinning bright overhead, she could feel completely happy and at peace. Adjusting her wide brimmed gardener's hat, she pulled off her gray work gloves and surveyed her pruning. Just a little more off the left side, she decided.

"Hello."

Turning, she smiled up at her husband, her eyes squinting slightly as the sun hit them. "Hello, yourself. I thought you and Rick were rebuilding that old dilapidated sailboat today?" Rick was her son by Jack. Martin and Rick had been rebuilding a weathered, broken down boat for two years now. Hannah had closet doubts that it would ever be seaworthy, but she understood that like her roses made her happy, the boat made Martin happy. It also pleased her to see Martin finding a place in Jack's life.

"I'm going over later," Martin explained as he eased himself onto the ivy colored wrought iron bench that decorated the garden. She noticed he had developed a little bit of a potbelly. Of course, if she were honest with herself, she had the start of one also. They would just have to get firmer when it came to avoiding fattening foods. She liked the thought of them growing old together and fervently sent up a quick, silent prayer thanking God for the chance.

Martin reached into his pocket and then held a smallish black box out towards her.

Hannah's heart constricted as she realized it was a box for a watch. He had bought her a watch. She smiled in the face of his anticipation, but her hand trembled as she took it. It would be cruel to try and explain that it was just too soon.

She gave a small gasp as she saw it. The gasp turned to a half-sob as she covered her mouth. "My watch," she whispered, "it's my watch." He nodded.

"But how?" She reached out and fingered the face. Martin shrugged. "It really wasn't that hard to get it fixed." He didn't tell her how much had paid the jeweler to completely remake the insides of the watch. He also didn't tell her how much prayer had gone into it as he struggled with his own insecurities. "I know how special it was to you to have the watch Jack gave you."

"And you gave me." She looked up, her eyes shinning. "It's from you andJack now. Thank you."

He grinned. "You're welcome."

He helped her put the watch around her slim wrist. It circled her arm like a memory - the memory of the past and the promise of the future.

  James 1:17. "Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above."

This article is copyrighted by the author. All Rights Reserved. No part of this article may be reprinted without permission of the author. ©Copyright 2001

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