One month old

Today my kiddo is one month old. It's very weird to me how young he is. Just after he was born, Garin and I were saying how rare it is to meet someone who is only 1 minute old, and then 1 hour, and then...well, you get the picture.

When do we stop counting minutes, hours, or even months? Yesterday was my 355th month birthday (which means today I've lived approximately 15,549,120 minutes). What if we had a birthday celebration every month? I wouldn't be opposed to getting presents every 8th day of the month, but I suppose I would get tired of the constant reminders of the passage of time. That's what makes things like the Olympics and Haley's Comet and Virginia's Quadricentennial such a big deal - we go for years without thinking about it, and then suddenly, we start getting election campaign ads in the mail and realize it's been four years since we voted for president. It is a big deal, isn't it? It only happens once every 4 years, or every 80 years, or every 400 years.

Still, I like counting the weeks and months since my son was born. I know I'll get tired of it someday soon, the weekly reminders that he is growing up fast. But for now, I'll wish him a happy one-month birthday, and enjoy the passage of time...

Memorials

Two very important men in my family's life left this world on August 2. In 2000, my father's 17 month battle with a brain tumor ended peacefully at 2am, Wednesday, August 2. In 2005, my husband's maternal grandfather, PapPaw Mac, died 2 weeks after a diagnosis of lung cancer. These are two of the most influential men in the formation of my family's life, and here are some of the lessons I learned from their lives.

Dad taught me to try hard at everything I do, and that there is always room for improvement. After my basketball games, he would spend the ride home telling me what a great job I did. Then, when we got home, he would teach me some new moves in the kitchen, usually using my mom or younger sister as the defense.

PapPaw Mac told stories like nobody I know - it didn't matter how many times he had told it. His favorite stories were repeated over and over, an indication of the importance of the characters in the story. Most of these stories were about his two grandsons, Garin and Trevor, and he told everyone he knew about them.

Dad's faith was rock-solid. He knew that his faith was not only his own - he passed it down to his children through teaching and by example. His foundation was in God, and even though we might have disagreed theologically, I know that he would be proud of the path I have chosen.

PapPaw Mac loved his family more than anything - every few weeks we would get an envelope with a few dollars in it and a note saying he was just thinking about us. He never got to meet his great-grandchildren, but I'm sure he would have loved them as he loved us.

Dad taught me to laugh - he had such great sense of humor. I remember one of the last conversations we had - I was stressing out about my last semester of college and all the pressures I had at the time. His advice to me was to go dancing. That was what he told me - "Don't take things so seriously - when was the last time you went dancing? Just go have fun - there's plenty of time to worry about all this later."

It seems like our society gives men a bad rap - stereotypes about selfish, immature and unreliable men are everywhere. I am intensely aware of the blessing I received by having not just one but two legacies to appreciate, and for this, I am forever grateful.