Greetings, one and all. I apologize for my absence and hope you understand. Some years are abundant with change - life-altering, time-pleating, happy-surprising CHANGE. 2012 has been such a year in my life and in our family. There has been precious little time for art, journaling, or anything else, yet every moment spent has been well-spent.
While art has definitely taken a back seat to more immediate concerns, I have managed to do a few drawings, a few fiber art pieces, and experimented with the new-to-me
Adirondack Alcohol Inks. I'll be posting photos when I'm on my big computer (where all my photos are stored). For now, a simple update on our family life may be in order.
Our adult granddaughter has been living with us since we moved to central Pennsylvania 4 and a half years ago. She had been attending Penn State University until financial difficulties and a surprise pregnancy ended her studies. The ultra-sound revealed identical twins in a single placenta, making her pregnancy "high risk." The long and short of the situation is, the twin girls were born 9 weeks early.
Due to all the prayers, kind thoughts, love, and caring of all our friends and family, the babies are now 5 months old, healthy, and absolutely adorable. Our household of 3 is now a family of 5, bustling with activity, infant cooing and laughter, and lots of love. As we find a new "normal" in our lives, we're experiencing daily shifts & changes. Watching these tiny girls develop personalities is a true privilege. At our age, we see life quite differently - perhaps it's a broader perspective, perhaps it's tempered by experience, perhaps it's nostalgia, perhaps it's love. But this 3rd time around parenting is an honor I wouldn't trade for the world. No, we are not the parents of these wonderful children, but we are with them 24/7. We watch their mother mature into a beautiful, loving, mature young mother. We witness her love for her children, and are in awe of life itself.
As the generations continue, we stand in the senior role. We are the elders, the story-tellers, the historians, the ones who remember. Some of our stories may never be heard or even told. Others may be dismissed until a much later date. None of that matters. What matters is the love, the family, the mystery of life. At least, that what it seems to be for me in the here and the now.
