Seven ladies walked into a tattoo parlor so that the “birthday girl” could get a tattoo.
Five girls walked out with ink. How many, including the birthday girl, did not get a tattoo?
This sounds like one of my son’s math problems.
Most of the supporting cast in this scene altered their skin– except the birthday girl herself. For some reason, the tattoo artist was unable to put all five of her kids’ names, filigrees and meaningful symbols on her second toe in white ink. Amateur.
I was amongst part of the support cast. (Judge not.)
Because this girls’ weekend was photographically journaled on Facebook, the first words out of my husband’s mouth when I returned home was, “Tell me you did not get a tattoo.”
I held out my arm and revealed the art. Three small birds flying into the distance. He said, “ At least it has meaning. I like it.”
Twenty-six years ago, my body– but mostly my life– was altered forever. I had my first born. At 7 lbs., 14 oz. and 20 ½ inches long, Lauren Nicole Hoag busted through my barricade of flesh and entered her first birthday party. Just like now, she charmed every person she came in contact with, especially me. I thought our nine months of pre-birth bonding had prepared me for the abundance of love I would feel. But, like the Grinch, my heart grew three sizes that day.
And it continues to.
One day, after I put Lauren down for a nap, I stood beside her crib and was swallowed up in the emotion of, “I just can’t ever lose her.” Right then and there I dropped to my knees and began to weep before God. I knew I was her caretaker but, in actuality, she belonged to God. I had to release her. It was not easy. It’s still not easy.
And so, she is one of the three birds flying away. A reminder to myself that my three children belong to God and that I have to entrust them to Him.
In exactly 48 hours from when I write this, my husband will be handing my baby girl over to the care of someone else. Not that she is unable to care for herself; anyone who knows Lauren knows that she’s done that quite successfully for many years. But once Keith and Lauren are joined in marriage, they are both committed to love and care for each other come what may.
It is a choice.
A beautiful choice; one saturated with servitude. A choice that will demand so much, but will also give so much.
When I was young, my mom would take me to the Christian Bookstore and allow me to purchase a comic book after having a successful dental appointment. One comic in particular impacted me. Archie. I remember the topic was on love and that Jughead was eating a banana. He announced, “I LOVE bananas!” and then he threw it away. Archie pointed out that it is easy to say that you love something(one).
The newly formed Winter family will soon see that love goes way past the boundaries of their current feelings. It becomes a beautiful hot mess of dying to yourself, serving the other, spurring each other on, holding each other close, but at the same time releasing each other to God. Both simple and complicated. It will make your knees buckle and fists clench.
I am excited about the wedding.
Blessed to have a new addition to the family.
But, as the wedding approaches I am finding myself looking down at my tattoo more and more often. A quick reminder that I have to release my baby girl.
Fly birdie, fly.
For you were called to freedom brother. Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another.
Galatians 5:13
I love all of your blogs, Andria, but I am particularly fond of this one. I have to tell you a short story so that you will understand.
I live in a modest 3/2 Ranch-style home with a den. Inside the den is a true, wood-burning fireplace. I’ve owned the house for many years and over the past 10 years or so, Chimney Swifts (small, chatty birds that do everything in flight – even sleep) fly thousands of miles to Florida to have their young. I didn’t know anything about these creatures years ago. I only knew that suddenly I had birds in my chimney. I thought, “Well, they found their way in, so I guess they’ll find their way out.” And months later, the daily singing was gone. I was relieved to know that they had made it out okay. Surprisingly enough, the following year, they returned. As soon as I heard the chattering behind the fireplace glass, I thought, “Oh No, you forgot to cover the chimney and the birds are back. Now, I will have to listen to them for months again.” Each year, I vowed that I would cover the chimney before the spring, when they’d come back. And; seemingly, each year, Spring time came earlier and earlier. Hence, I never covered the chimney. I would know when they arrived only by the initial chirping inside my fireplace. Year after year, they’d return. Eventually, I was almost looking forward to their visit. The idea of capping the chimney grew less and less important. Until this year, when I committed to putting the house on the market. I told myself, last Winter, “You MUST remember to cover the chimney before the Swifts come back, for if you are to sell the house in the Spring, you cannot have birds in the chimney. Who would want to buy a house with birds in the chimney?” Two weeks ago, I was in the backyard doing yard work when I suddenly heard the familiar chattering of Swifts overhead. I panicked because, again, I forgot to cap the chimney! I scurried to grab the first thing that I could find to ward them off. The pool rake, with its telescoping handle, would fit snugly on the chimney’s edge, giving me time to get the ladder and get up on the roof. I fetched the ladder, a white, plastic, kitchen garbage bag and; of course, duct tape! I climbed the ladder and successfully attached the makeshift chimney cap to the chimney with the duct tape. I descended the ladder, dusted myself off and clapped my hands, saying to myself, “There, that’ll do until I can put the cap on.” The next day I was in the backyard again when I heard them coming. The pair of Swifts would fly back and forth, swooping down over the opening of the chimney to see what was blocking their entry. These birds communicate with each other all of the time. I could almost understand what they were saying to each other. They would leave for hours at a time but would keep coming back, repeating the flight plan – swooping down and flying just over the top of the chimney so as to get a good look, not only at the covering, but at me, as well. On the third evening after covering the chimney, I went outside and I could hear the Swifts chattering, high up in the next-door neighbors tree. I could not take it any longer. My heart broke for the little birds! Knowing that I was probably going to forfeit the timely sale of my home, I could not forfeit theirs. By now, it was dark, but that didn’t stop me. I, quickly, pitched the ladder, ascended it and against all common-sense, took off the covering to the chimney. After going inside, it was very soon thereafter, that I once again heard the familiar sound of chattering; but happy, Chimney Swifts, as they nestled into the previously-constructed nest that had hung just above the damper for years. Over the next week, I would hear the Swifts singing as they flew around outside, eating, playing and courting each other in flight. Though they seemed a bit louder than I had recalled, it wasn’t until the following week that I realized that, instead of just two Swifts, there were now three. Three adult Swifts, teamed up together. To this day, I don’t know why there are three. It has never been common for more than two to share the chimney. I have always gathered that they are a couple, a pair, a male and a female. But now, I see that there are three birds always together. I surmise that, by covering the chimney, I thwarted the arrival of the rightful occupants; thereby, allowing another Swift to enter the chimney. In so doing, I suspect that neither female (assumed) would relinquish the nest and that two females and one male will now be singing to me every morning. I have convinced myself that if a potential buyer does not want to buy the house due to the birds in the chimney, that they are probably not very understanding people anyway. But more importantly, if it is true that the birds made compromises due; perhaps to my poor judgement when covering the opening, then certainly we as humans can learn to do the same. And, to your point, no matter how uncomfortable things can sometimes be in a little nest, if we stick together and love one another as God loves us, all things will work out.
Lastly, if anyone has any insight into Chimney Swifts, feel free to email me or post a comment.