The Lamb house was full of big laughs, good food and old stories this week. Katie Elder slipped into town on a scooter and a smile. The skies welcomed her with thunder, lightning and rain when she arrived on a Sunday — blessed her with sunshine when she departed the following Saturday. In-between, a good time was had by all.
It wasn’t the first time Katherine Elder Lamb altered history. That happened at the medical facilities of the Naval Air Station Corpus Christi in 1969. Things have never been the same, since.
She was, of course, the perfect baby: 10 fingers, 10 toes, fine hair, blue eyes, ready smile — and a football fan. (New York Jets, then; Ravens, now.)
A natural lambskin rug reserved Kate’s spot for the games in the shabby little shack we called home. (We dared not vacuum the threadbare carpets; it was the dirt in the cracks of the floor that kept the wind from blowing through.)
Flash-forward to the present . . .
Kate’s visit from Pennsylvania, where she works, to Florida where I live had been months in the making. Everything was moving smoothly until she broke her foot. (What she broke, I cannot say — even though I’ve been told several times and even seen the X-ray.)
Suffice to say, it jeopardized the trip — but the introduction of a non-motorized, foldable, tri-scooter saved the day. Kate was quite good at maneuvering this little wind-jammer, slicing through parking lots, restaurants, and sidewalks with equal ease. (I told her she reminded me of Tony Hawk, the pro skateboarder, and suggested she train for the Olympics. We’ll see how that turns out.)
Overall the trip was great: We laughed, we cried, we talked, we prayed.
Kate, my Baby, is a Mom herself now, with three great kids: Chelsey, Meagan and Gabe. She’s also Grandma of the cutest granddaughter on God’s Green Earth. Her name is Kyleigh.
I could go on — but the point is this: People we love (and who love us) are fragile, fleeting treasures — like dandelions . . . sturdy, yellow-gold gems one moment; delicate, ghost-like memories in the wind, the next.
Toughest part of the whole trip was when Kate cried, told me to take care of myself.
“We need you,” she said, sobbing.
Uncomfortable moment. Wanted to hide. Squirmed a bit.
“Yeah, OK,” I said. Or somethin’ like that.
Truth is, I’ve lived nearly 70 years. Seen things, I never expected. Lived things, I could not have imagined. Loved — ah, yes. Loved. And have been loved, too. (Thank God for that.) As Paul notes in 1 Cor. 13:13: “The greatest of these is love.”
Reminds me a bit of Joni Mitchell’s song, “Both Sides Now”:
“I’ve looked at love from both sides now,
from give and take, and still somehow
it’s love’s illusions that I recall.
I really don’t know love at all.”
But I’m learning — Thank Kate for that . . .
SUNDAY MEDITATIONS ARCHIVE: Click here.
