In July, 2017 as I stood in the living room of my mother’s home, my son and his girlfriend unexpectedly walked through the door. They had driven from Atlanta, Georgia to Flowood, Mississippi to surprise me for my big FIVE-O. Yep, my 50th birthday.
Their surprise visit was exciting enough but pretty soon I learned that they were there to tell me something. They had news to share. They had a very special reason for making the trip. As a mother, I already knew that she was “the one” so I hoped the “big announcement” was their engagement.
As a million other thoughts scurried through my head, my son handed me a collection of homemade puzzle pieces and asked me to put them together. The pieces, when properly assembled, would reveal the answer. The surprise. The news. The gift. The big reveal.
“Aruba, Mom! You’re going to Aruba!” Tears, smiles, laughter, joy, more tears, hugs. My son gave me a trip. A vacation for the two of us – together – in Aruba!
Fast forward through…. life: my crazy commuting career, his engagement and marriage to “the one,” my daughter’s move to college, my mother’s health and just everyday life STUFF. We looked up in early 2019 and told each other, “We’ve GOT to take that trip!”
After weeks of evaluating options for various destinations, including Aruba, we decided to book a trip for the four of us: my son, his wife, my husband and I to…get ready for this…the Dominican Republic. THEN…. you know the rest. If you don’t, look it up. It ain’t good and we weren’t willing to risk it!
So…here we are almost two years later to the date when my son and his now-wife drove to Mississippi just for me. My husband and I are going to Jamaica.
You may wonder why my son isn’t going. It was supposed to be a trip for the two of us, right?!?
You see, I’ve received an even greater gift than any trip could ever offer. I’m going to be a grandmother. God has created a sweet little girl who is growing inside my precious daughter-in-law. My son is gonna be a daddy. And that sweet lil Mama can’t travel to the Caribbean right now.
So we’re going. My husband and I. To a luxurious resort in Jamaica. All-inclusive. Adults-only. ‘Cause in a few months when we get that phone call – the one that announces, “She’s in labor!”, this FIFTY-TWO year old is high-tailin’ it to Atlanta!
Live Life, Y’all!