Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Pebbles in my Pocket

Seventeen years ago (March 16, 1993 to be exact) I delivered my second son; a bouncing baby boy. His older brother was thrilled! A baby brother had been the prayer order for many years and, as expected by Corey, God delivered.

Garrett Andrew was 9 lbs. 11 oz. and I remember on his first visit to the doctor his pediatrician looked at me instead of my baby and said, "So how are you feeling?"

I thought it strange he would ask that of me even as a piece of me lay on the examination table kicking and screaming.
He clarified, "You're awful small (ie: I was 110 lbs at the time and small-boned) to have had a baby this size."

I simply nodded. I don't remember if I revealed to him that my ob/gyn had predicted a 6 1/2 lb. baby and this bouncing baby boy was quite the surprise to all.

"Look," he bid me to my son's side, "you can see exactly how he was wedged inside of you."
And, like a puzzle, he took my son's hefty little legs and fit them into the contours of his plump belly. Everything fit perfectly.

My babysitter's husband nicknamed Garrett Bull-o. To this day Papa Leger calls him this.

Garrett did indeed look like a bull in a china closet. Everyone said so. He was all boy. White headed and demanding. Even when he cried, his cry was deep-throated and manly. He didn't sleep at night.

We embraced the family bed with this son. It was the only way the family slept.

I used him as the excuse for my tiredness, my moodiness, my frustration, my nervousness. It's true, I whined, the third child is the pinnacle. I looked down from the peak of motherhood and was afraid I would fall off the face of the earth. My very self had been demoted.

I admit I was tired. I was working part-time, had a soon-to-be six year old son and a three year old daughter. My son was starting kindergarten that fall.
I had had a miscarriage shortly before conceiving this son.
On top of housework and life in general, I wasn't stopping to simply enjoy being a mother.
I was tired.

I had allowed myself to get sucked into the vacuum known as motherhood in the 20th century...never realizing that I didn't belong there.

I wasn't listening to the whispers of my own body. How could I when there were moving pieces of me all over my house: demanding, crying, screaming even?

There were many times I understood too well why society trumpeted the Litany of Self:

  • Don't have more than two children

  • Take birth control

  • Take time for yourself

  • Don't have any more children

  • Put your children in daycare

  • Get a job
Like Satan in the desert had tempted our Lord, 20th century America had built up this mountain of self and set me upon it and told me I could have it all.

"Again the devil took him up into a very high mountain, and shewed him all the kingdoms of the world, and the glory of them, And said to him: All these will I give thee, if falling down thou wilt adore me. Then Jesus saith to him: Begone, Satan: for it is written, The Lord thy God shalt thou adore, and him only shalt thou serve. Then the devil left him; and behold angels came and ministered to him."
~ Mt 8:1-11 Douay trans.
There were many days I dreaded going home because I didn't want to face the music (ie: crying, poopy diapers, whining, messes, dirt---see picture above), but beneath the earthly grime and human weakness I saw something more, something that elevated this life. In my children I saw the face of God. I realized the sanctity and blessings within and turned away from the desert. And found life...abundantly.

Rather than try to escape into the 20th century mentality, I did what society tells us not to do. 

I didn't withdraw from my family and homelife as the world told me to do. I embraced this God-given role and embraced my home and family. I decided to consume myself with it.

I couldn't help myself.
There was too much sweetness found in the pockets of daily life that saved me from the dizzying heights.
This picture represents one of those little pebbles I picked up along my way to the top of that mountain. It's one of the many pebbles I put into my pocket. It's a picture of Garrett playing in our backyard with his first set of wheels. His sister's doll is beside him. We called it his "girlfriend." It's a picture of what life can be when you stop living in the outside world and live in and for the now.

Those pebbles in my pocket mean more to me than all the mountains in the world. They are the mustard seeds of my life's story.

Today the baby who almost brought me to my melting point is seventeen years old. I find it a beautiful thing that he has a love for all things that wiggle, bounce, twitch and flail tiny.

I now see that his demanding cries was that mysterious voice in the desert which one doesn't quite understand and which many of us try to ignore. We are pulled away by the tempters in the desert: the outside voices which tell us to turn away from the other voice, the one that calls us, the one that demands that we grow, the one that begs us to come down from the mountain and become like children again, the voice that beckons us to turn back to what is a part of us and worthy of our time and self, the one that pleads even.
"A voice cries out: In the desert prepare the way of the LORD! Make straight in the wasteland a highway for our God!"  ~ New American Bible
For seventeen years, the physical life of this child has been a spiritual journey for me.
Little does he realize that I am a much better parent because of him and his brother and sisters.
Saying he has been a gift from God sounds trite and redundant. He is so much more.

He is one of the pebbles I collect on the road that leads me to Heaven.
And while it might sound trite and redundant, please don't tell my mother's heart that. I stopped listening to outside voices a long time ago. I now listen with my heart.

Garrett and his sister Kayleigh (his sponsor) with Bishop Provost of Lake Charles Diocese (a distant cousin of his great-Grandma Provost) on the occasion of his Confirmation on April 29, 2010.
Kayleigh and Garrett with our seminarian friend, Matthew Cormier (graduating from St. Joseph's Friday, May 7th---Wahoo!)
Now taller than his big sister.
With proud grandparents.
Winner of Best Defensive Player (Soccer) and Most Valuable Player (Baseball) at the Athletic Banquet Tuesday, May 4, 2010.


  1. Garr has done quite well...his journey continues. Oma

  2. Thanks for sharing all these "pebbles" in your pocket, Cay. I can imagine the wall you will be able to build one day with all of them!


  3. Kimberly,
    I truly hope to build walkways and not walls with those pebbles. :-)

  4. Garrett and Nathaniel's babyhood/boyhoods were soooo much alike!

    And I'm trying to build the walkways, too. I'm sure you realize how limber you have to be!

    I loved the blue car picture.

    Tell him we said "congratulations" on his Confirmation.

  5. Well, I was thinking a wall of protection...or a wall around the garden of your grandchildren..or a wall as a monument...but a walkway is a nice picture too!


  6. This was such a beautiful tribute to your son and to the gift of motherhood. You brought me to tears of joy.

    Here's to pebbles in the pocket of a loving mother!

    God bless you both!


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