I had a zoom call with my Polish friends today and out of the many, many topics that we covered (how to break bones without really trying, why Sweden raided Poland in the 17th century, is tradition anti progressive), one stuck in my mind: how to be the person of calm in the family as you grow older. It came up from one set of grandparents who were getting ready to visit and help their daughter manage a newborn -- a third child in that household. The grandmother (even more than the grandpa, by his own admission) packed and brought with her an aura of calm to the home of each family where a child was added (and given that they're about to be grandparents to the thirteenth grandchild, that was a heck of a lot of calm to work on). And I thought that joy is born of calm and if you can be the agent of peace and tranquility, well, you've given more than a young family could ever hope for. The goal isn't to succeed in anything. The goal is merely to consistently try.
I've not seen all of my friends do their grandparent thing, but I have seen some and they have been magnificent at it! It made me wonder if there is a special place in heaven for the Polish grandma. Whatever angst broils within her, she's not likely to unload it. Instead, she is there for you til her last breath. You can see her in Polish parks holding the hand of a young child, or at a Polish dinner table ladling out chicken soup. I'm feeding stereotypes here and I know there are the outliers or exceptions, but as I talk to my friends in Warsaw, I keep hearing in their stories this same theme, this great desire to provide balance to the tumult in a young family's life, to ease the disquiet, to offer that setting where happiness resides. (And I must say, grandchildren are not a necessary component here: you can be the perfect grandma to your children too! Same set of skills: ease the disquiet, offer a gentle calm in its stead.)
Let me go back to the morning though. I see that the lilies are beginning to pop open! (The early yellow ones of course bloomed for weeks now, but to appreciate the full day lily experience, you have to wait for the other colors to emerge.)
More summer bloomers: hollyhock and lavender, the latter with an appreciative bee.
Breakfast, but without Ed. He got busy cleaning up the remains of a squirrel (don't ask) and by the time he was done with that horrible project, the breakfast hour was long gone.
In the late afternoon, I do what I have not done for a long long time: I meet up with a special friend at a local coffee shop.
And it is sublime. Having just passed through a period of isolation makes one deeply appreciative of the gifts a coffee date can bring to your day. Talk about calm! A friend can play that role well too!
Evening. Ed is out biking and I am making up for a day of inactivity. I climb the ladder, trying hard to balance without swaying and pick the last of the cherries that have been so abundant for us this year. Lovely stuff.
And I come in just in time to pick up a FaceTime from this little one:
No storms for me today, inside or out. Just a lovely summer day!
