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A Change of Heart Unexpectedly and at a relatively young age, 36 to be exact, I became a grandmother. I wasn’t even gray yet, and crow’s feet, well, when I looked closer that day I spotted a few at my temples. It’s funny how simple little things end up being the catalyst that changes our lives forever. I had great aspirations for my 16-year-old middle daughter. Most importantly, I wished for her heart to sing throughout her life. In 1986 everything seemed to be falling into place for her. You know, a 4.0 grade point average, riding her prize Arabian and working at the stables to help pay for training and upcoming elaborate shows. And college? Well, she wanted to attend UC Davis in Sacramento, California and become a veterinarian. But then the unthinkable happened. My beautiful and gifted 16-year-old daughter would not be fulfilling her dreams. She was pregnant. Along with her hopes, mine would vanish too. I want you to notice I said, “Mine would vanish too.” God’s honest truth was that I never realized that I was only boastful of her accomplishments. Shame filled me. I sobbed like a fool and begged God to give me answers. None came. I searched my soul to the depths. Why did I deserve this punishment? Hadn’t I been a good mother? Hadn’t I loved her with all my heart? Apparently not, sang through my mind. I cried until I was puffy-eyed and red-nosed. I couldn’t stand the thought of what tomorrow would bring. The sad truth was that I was embarrassed about my daughter’s situation. What would everyone think of me and of her? Would my neighbors whisper behind my back and eye me with pity? I didn’t know, and that was the worse part. Finally, I mustered up some dignity and told a few close friends and relatives the news. Some behaved uncomfortable and some dismissed my despair with a wave of their hand. You know, like it wasn’t a big deal. Consequently, their responses added to my self-inflicted depression. Didn’t they care? Or was it just because it wasn’t their daughter throwing away her education and future? I should have kept my big mouth shut. Oh, but not me. I hunkered down and cornered a select few. What a huge mistake that was. My mother, cousins and sisters said it would all work out in time. In time? Were they all mad? Dreary days passed and the time came for me to present my daughter with options: put the baby up for adoption, have an abortion, or keep the baby. If ever I needed a leap of faith, it was then. But instead I had a bomb dropped on me. There was only one decision for my daughter and that was to keep her baby. Ah-ha, I thought, and threatened she would have to get married. Much to my surprise that was exactly what she wanted to do. The father-to-be was ecstatic, as he loved her so. His family couldn’t have been happier. If ever I put my big foot in my mouth, it was then. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the first time or the last. In the coming days a wedding was planned. At first, I refused to be involved. Well, that was until I looked into my daughter’s heartrending brown eyes. I wanted nothing more than to hold her close and ask her for forgiveness for my despicable behavior. But I didn’t. For me the decision of staying at arms length would keep me safe from heartache. Before I knew it, the wedding was being planned without me. I knew if I didn’t jump on the bandwagon I was going to be left at the back of the small country church. I meekly offered to buy a wedding dress, hat, and flowers. My daughter was overjoyed. Fall arrived with crisp air and ruby leaves. The simple wedding neared. My heart wouldn’t rest and my nerves unraveled. I invited a few close friends, who, by the way, were gracious and supportive. Without one special friend I don’t know if I would have made it through that difficult time. My cousin appeared at my front door a few weeks before the wedding. I waved her into the kitchen with birds-nest hair and raccoon eyes. I made a pot of coffee. She looked at me from across the table with brown eyes flavored with affection and said very simple but meaningful words. “You’re going to be a grandmother, that’s so exciting. Just think of all the dreams you’ll share with her. Such joyous times... I’m so envious.” My heart broke. I felt like Mommie Dearest. How blind had I been? God did send someone to open my eyes before I missed a very special day? Before I missed a day that would bring me many precious memories. Five years later, my precious grandson, Justin, was attending kindergarten at a Christian school. The celebration of Grandparents Day arrived on a clear and bright day. My husband and I held hands as we climbed the small steps to the church. I really had no idea what I was in for spiritually or emotionally. The pastor stood at the entrance to the chapel and personally greeted every grandparent with an angelic smile and sharp blue eyes that matched the sky. Inside the quaint chapel with vaulted ceilings and polished wooden pews, cheerful people moved about. I took a seat and could have sworn I heard angels sighing near the bare rafters. My throat went dry and tears traced my cheeks. With certainty I knew I would never forget this day. In smooth strides, the attentive pastor stepped up to the podium. He called the whispering children to come forward. Ages five through 12, their small feet marched down the aisle with faces smiling and eyes dancing. Each child looked across the pews for their grandparents. Justin appeared and his dark blue eyes searched for us. For a brief moment, I saw doubt play across his tiny round face. And then his eyes found ours. Elated joy curled in his lips and etched a special place in my eternal memory. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to hold him close and tell him how much I loved him. From the stage sweet voices sang like angels while never missing a note. Tears filled many adults’ eyes, including mine. I watched my precious grandson standing front and center. His corn-silk hair fell across his forehead and his soulful eyes met mine again. I wanted to capture the timeless moment forevermore. The program came to an end and the children marched down the center aisle and left the chapel. Step-by-step we followed to Justin’s classroom. There, the door was open and we peeked inside. Tiny tables and miniature chairs in straight rows filled the artful room. Justin sat in the front row facing a blackboard displaying the alphabet and numbers. His tiny hands were folded on the desktop, his small feet flat on the old linoleum floor. We entered with earnest delight and his gaze never faltered from us. We took seats in small chairs, my husband on one side of Justin and I on the other. I hadn’t been that low to the ground in a while. I offered a smile and leaned over and kissed his warm cheek. He smiled back with pride. I placed my hand over his. Justin looked into my eyes and said, “Grandma, you’re always here for me. I’m really lucky.” I thought, No, Justin, I’m the lucky one. My grandson, Justin, has brought such joy to my life from the very day he arrived like a gift into our world. He is now 19, and me, well I’m 55. The long ago decision that I thought was going to be my burden became the joy of my life. And now, 19 years later, and hopefully a little more trusting in God’s plans, I have three more beautiful grandchildren. I only have two regrets. I wish with all my heart that I would have behaved in a more understanding and loving manner when the news of the pregnancy came. And I wish I had been more supportive to my precious daughter who is now a beautiful and intelligent young woman with two delightful children who fill my heart with pleasure at just the mere mention of their names. Life is truly a journey filled with heartache and joyfulness. Some have said it’s more like a roller coaster thrashing us about and tossing us up and down. I would agree. But now, as I look back, the rewards have always outweighed every second of the heartache. I would change nothing, especially becoming Justin’s grandmother.
Cindy Golchuk lives on the outskirts of the lavish and intriguing city of Las Vegas, Nevada with her husband, Ed, her not always angelic grandson, Zackary, and three precocious dogs that rule their household with iron paws. Over the last three decades she has worked in the male dominated construction industry, raised four children to adulthood and narrowly escaped with only a few bruises. Now she has years of comedic incidents to fill a thousand pages. Currently she is placing the finishing touches on her mainstream fiction novel for women entitled, "Release of the Sparrow."
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