The Outpouring

Yesterday started like most days for me.

By 6:15 a.m. on this particular Saturday in February, Rika decided it was time for "mama" to get up because, you know, she has things to do.  (I count my blessings that she let me sleep in an extra hour than usual.)  So, I rolled out of bed and followed her down the stairs.  I let her out and then proceeded to go through my morning routine.

Prenatal vitamin.  Check.  Fresh pot of coffee started.  Check.  Breakfast for us early morning risers.  Check.  Dishwasher unpacked and whatever stray dishes could be found around the house loaded into the then empty dishwasher, load of laundry started.  Check, check.

Then, sitting down with my one cup of coffee for the day, I read my daily devotional and checked my email before turning on the news to see what weather would be blessing my day.  As soon as the weather was forecasted for the day, I changed the channel.  Because, honestly, who other than my husband actually enjoys watching the news??  (Not me!)

I settled in on my comfy sofa, and I'll be honest, I didn't move until I heard the washing machine sing it's tune meaning that the cycle was done and it was time for that load to be switched over to the dryer.  By this time, it was about 8 a.m., so I switched the load over and then decided I should probably exercise, shower, and get ready so I could be out the door by 9:30.

You see, it was to be a celebration day.

Yesterday, over 50 of us--young and old--packed into my mother's house to celebrate the upcoming debut of our little nugget (Baby Stralow, for those of you who haven't been around enough to hear my husband or myself refer to this little one as "nugget").  And can I just tell you that I was EXTREMELY blessed by this celebration.  The outpouring of love from friends and family left me in awe, and I am so very grateful.  I got to see people I haven't seen in months to probably even years.  I got to visit and laugh and eat and just have a wonderful time with these ladies who took the time out of their day to come and love on me and this precious, precious little one.  And as grateful as I am for all the gifts and all the ladies that showed up and all of their love and friendship over the years, there was one gift that touched my heart above all else and left me in tears.    

Can I be honest with you?

I don't like to cry.  Especially not in front of others.  And I'm not a "crier."  For the most part, I try to keep my composure.  I fail at times, yes, but I believe (for the most part) that I do a pretty good job of "keeping it together."

But with this gift...  I couldn't.

I lost it.

And, I'm not talking about a few tears streaming down the face that you can easily wipe away without smudging your mascara.  I'm talking about emotion leaking through your eyes that leaves you wondering if you're "ugly crying" in front of a room full of people and wanting to bow your head to hide said emotion.

My heart had overflowed, and I just could not contain it despite my valiant attempt.

You see...

When my husband and I found out we were expecting, I had mixed emotions.  Yes, we were ecstatic! We had been trying (and failing) for over a year to get pregnant.  So, a positive pregnancy test was absolutely joyous.  But, it also came with the realization for me that my grandparents--my Poppi, my Grandma Wiersema, my Grandpa and Grandma Gaul--would never hear me tell them that they were going to be great grandparents again...that I would never get to see the joy on their faces as they got to hold my precious little one for the first time...that my little one would never ever know the wonderful people that my grandparents were...that my little one would never ever get to hear Poppi tell his jokes that he could never remember the punch line to or that my little one would never get random cards from Grandma Gaul telling them how proud she was of them and how she prayed over them daily.  So, such joyous news also brought sadness with it despite knowing in my heart, that someday, we will all be reunited because we have the comfort of knowing that my grandparents all knew the Lord as their personal Savior prior to their passing.

Although all death is hard, the deaths of my Grandpa and Grandma Gaul are still relatively fresh--both passing within the past year and a half.  And yesterday, I was given a gift that is going to allow my little one to know that they were prayed for and loved by my Grandma Gaul even though she never got the opportunity to welcome them into this world and hold them and kiss their sweet little cheeks.

So, I lost it.

And even now, I'm losing it.

Encore of the tears.

Prior to the baby shower, my mother had told me that the three gifts in the similar bags did not mean that the gifts were all together.  She informed me that one gift bag was from her, the other two were from "someone else."  At the time, I didn't truly understand what she meant.  I just figured one of my elderly relatives was unable to attend and so they had asked my mother to take care of the gift/gift wrapping for them as this is not an uncommon thing for my mother to do for others.

When it came time to open these three gift bags, I opened the one from my mother first.  We ooo'd and awe'd over the gifts like us ladies do.  Then I reached in to get the card from the other bags--which were tied together--and began to read:

          Angela,
          On Christmas day, I was sorting through Grandma's sewing stuff.  As I was
          sorting, I found the beginnings of this gift.  I knew if Grandma was still here, 
          that she would want me to finish these for her to give to you.  So...here is the 
          finished product.
          She would be so happy and proud to have known this little one is on its way.
          And, as fragile as she was, she would have wanted to hold and love your 
          little one.  So here is a little piece of Grandma Gaul for you to cherish.
          She loved you dearly!
          Mom

I bowed my head as tears began to roll down my cheeks, tucked the card into my lap, and began to slowly untie the ribbon holding the bags together.  I pulled out the tissue paper, and I lost it.  Because there, in that bag, was a blanket that my Grandma had started--but never got to finish--that matched my blanket she had made for me when I was a little girl, a blanket that I still have although mine is tattered and torn from years of being snuggled with and dragged around through who knows what exactly.  And then as I reached into the second bag, there was another familiar pattern of a choo-choo-train blanket that my Grandma had made for my older brother when he was a child--a blanket that he still has to this day.  One blanket if Baby Stralow is a boy, one blanket if Baby Stralow is a girl.

After blubbering for a bit, I finally regained my composure.  But, I lost it again when I went home and showed my husband the blankets...when I put the blankets upstairs in the baby's room on display...and then again when I took pictures of the blankets.  ...and then again this morning as I've attempted to put down these words...

Yesterday was truly an outpouring of love and support from many.

But, to my little one from your Great Grandma Gaul...

May you one day realize that you were prayed for, yearned for, and loved on before you were even known to be.

- the new and the old, from Grandma Gaul -