Showing posts sorted by relevance for query Niece. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query Niece. Sort by date Show all posts
Recently, I was reminded to take seriously that each day is a gift. I can forget that truth amid the rush of work projects and the worries of life. Because my editing 9-to-5 is so much about meeting deadlines and staying one step ahead of the mountain that threatens to swallow me, I can forget to look around and appreciate the most important treasures in life.

This post is about recovering that sense of wonder. Here are some of the things, large and small, for which I am thankful:

1. The right and privilege to vote in U.S. elections


(Photo: Rachel E. Watson)

This is a solemn responsibility and at the same time a great privilege, one that the women of my 238-year-old nation have only had for 94 years. It fills my heart with a sense of power and pride when I step into that booth after careful research and fill in the bubbles that represent my choices. 

On Election Day last Tuesday, I couldn't help noticing the looks of satisfaction on each of the faces in line. Here we are to vote, and here we've just voted. How simple a joy. The smiles were infectious. 

2. Poetry and songwriting


In meter and wonder, with rhythm and expression, words and music weave a tapestry that conveys our shared human experience. 

How is it that one person can pen a song that moves the hearts of thousands? When we read or hear the lines borne out of the writer's mind, we can't know fully what it was that led to the writing. But we can feel it deeply inside. We can connect. We can welcome the words and sounds into our spirits and carry them with us into the night, a great sustenance through the valley of the shadow.


3. The power of spoken prayer


(Photo: Free images)

I like to be alone, where I may speak my fears to God. I find Him at the zenith of my frustrations outside in nature, where I walk alone and talk to Him aloud. 

Speaking my thoughts moves them from the confused cage of my brain into the light of day, where I can see them for what they are. When they are said aloud, though I hear no audible response from God, they lose power over me. 

One example last week was when a project took a sharp turn just when I thought it was finished, and I lost my cool. 

I gathered my keys and coat and headed for the woods to seek solitude. I remember telling God, "What's going on here is not cool! I'm really angry that you'd let this happen! And then there's the matter of my niece born today. I was really hoping to get out of here early so I could go see her, but then all of this happened. She's not getting any younger, God!" 

After I said those words, I just burst out laughing at how I sounded. I was released from anger's grip.

Speaking of my niece ... here's my final item of gratitude:

4. A new life to love


While I was praying on my solitary walk on Friday, I realized that I already loved my newest niece, November "Emmy" Rose, born that morning at 3:30, even though I hadn't met her yet. 

Emmy sleeps in my arms. (Photo: Adam Forrest)

And when I did meet her, I couldn't get enough of those tiny features, the small hands with perfect fingernails, the head of thick, silky black hair, the little button nose and chubby cheeks, the personality waiting to be discovered. 

What will she love? Who will her friends be? Will she like to read? As her limbs grow strong, will she test their limits in sports and work and play? 

I'm thankful to God for her, and for each new breath He allows me to enjoy all of His good gifts.

Read more posts in the Storytelling Sunday series here.
Brandi Carlile

On a sunny and gorgeous Friday afternoon a couple weeks ago, I regained an appreciation for Brandi Carlile's song "Caroline."

Why? Because I spent a couple hours at a park with my precious 7-month-old niece, Emmy. Carlile wrote the song about her niece, Caroline, and recorded it with the legendary Elton John, whose fingers skip happily over the keys and infuse the song with life and joy. 

I love the song even more now that I'm an aunt, an experience I hadn't yet had when it was released on Carlile's 2009 album "Give Up the Ghost."

Now, six years later, I have three nieces and a nephew on my Watson side of the family, and four nieces and three nephews on my husband's side of the family. And I have a new appreciation for lines like this gem: "But I've seen things so beautiful / All around this broken world / That pale in comparison to you."

Nieces and nephews are a blessing from God. I pray that all of you readers will someday get to experience the joy of watching wee loved ones grow up.

In the meantime, here's the song:


"Caroline," by Brandi Carlile

I woke up long after dawn
20 years had come and gone
I know when it changed for me
A day in June you came to me
I've seen through someone else's eyes
With nothin' on the other side
Every motel, every town
Pieces scattered all around

Promises that I can't be
Someone's heart that I can't keep
Days so long I couldn't speak
Roads so rocky I can't sleep
But I've seen things so beautiful
All around this broken world
That pale in comparison to you

Caroline I'm on my way back home to you
Can't imagine what I'm goin' through
without you by my side
It's been a long long time
Oh won't you say a prayer for me
I hope you will remember me
You're always on my mind

I have seen the canyon lands
Crooked lines like in your hands
You'd swear the earth was split in two
I wouldn't lie I promise you
That I have seen it, you will too
You could not believe if not for
photographs I took for you, Caroline
They've built towers to the sky
It hurts sometimes to watch them try
They run themselves into the ground
But I know you will love them
and their city lights and city sounds
There's beauty in the struggle
Anytime I feel it get me down
I see you smiling

Caroline, I'm on my way back home to you
Can't imagine what I'm goin' through
Without you by my side
It's been a long long time
Oh won't you say a prayer for me
I hope you will remember me
You're always on my mind
My Caroline

Now I have seen things in the sky
Stars and lights and birds and I
I've been rocky mountain high
And told them all about you
Because you are still the only thing
That constantly amazes me
I love the road and I've been blessed
But I love you best

Caroline, I'm on my way back home to you
Can't imagine what I'm goin' through
Without you by my side
It's been a long long time
Oh won't you say a prayer for me
I hope you will remember me
You're always on my mind
You were always on my mind
My Caroline

Memorial Weekend is not just for barbecues. It's a holiday for remembering departed loved ones who devoted their lives to serving our country.

Lt. Col. Rodney Fausett

My uncle, my mother’s brother, Rod Fausett, was one such man. He died two years ago in April, just two months shy of his 56th birthday.

Uncle Rod had retired from the Army as a Lieutenant Colonel in 2007, after 25 years of military service. Despite all his time in far-flung places during peaceful and turbulent periods, and despite six years of post-Army work as a civilian contractor, it wasn't his job that claimed his life after all.

He died in a motorcycle accident on a bright spring Saturday, April 6, 2013.

Even in retirement, Uncle Rod was serving our country, via his work as a military analyst for L-3 MPRI, a global contracting firm. Had he lived past age 55, I know he would have found a way to keep serving in whatever capacity he could, until his last breath. He was just that kind of man.

Full of life and passion

Uncle Rod was dedicated. Warm-hearted. Articulate. Full of sly wit. Intelligent. A fun goofball. Fond of a good cigar. Wore those trademark Hawaiian shirts whenever possible.

Uncle Rod sports one of his infamous Hawaiian shirts while hanging out with his kids,
from left, Sarah, Jenna and Matthew, Memorial Weekend 2009.
(Photos courtesy of Jenna Fausett)

I never had the chance to know him as well as I would have liked, as he spent most of my childhood in places like Detroit, Florida and Germany, then settled his family in Leavenworth, Kansas, when I was a teenager.

But I do remember a collection of little things, from our trips to Kansas and their visits to Michigan.

I remember his love of storytelling. I remember his fondness for grilling and cooking excellent meals. I remember how he spent hours combing ancestry.com and other genealogy websites for Fausett family records, emailing hundreds of pages of correspondence back and forth with my mom. The project united their curious minds.

I remember his silences. How he could be so quiet, then something would spark that tumultuous belly laugh, and the stoic front would melt into a hundred smile lines.

A deep family bond

As a niece observing his life from a distance, I remember witnessing his bond with his children, Sarah, Jenna and Matthew, and feeling blessed by it. I got the sense that, despite the necessity of uprooting the family for each new assignment, and the pain of divorce and geographical separations, he was the kind of dad who inspired deep devotion and fierce loyalty.

That sense was never stronger than at his funeral. His eldest, my cousin Sarah, read pages of memories she and her siblings had written the night before. My heart ached for her and Jenna, who each would walk down the aisle with their grooms later that year — without their dad to escort them.

His legacy lives on

Even though he's gone, be assured: His legacy lives on in his children.

I see it in Sarah’s wit, intelligence and curiosity, her passion for science — she is a genetic biologist — and her love of travel — she lives in France. I see Uncle Rod’s kindness, sensitivity and groundedness in Jenna, the young mom who lives and works in Leavenworth, Kansas, Uncle Rod’s last base before he retired. I see his often-quiet demeanor and soft heart in Matthew, who works with his hands fixing cars in Lansing, Kansas, not saying much in groups, but quick to smile, fond of a summer fishing trip, and devoted to his mom and sisters.

May you always rest in peace, dear Uncle Rod. May you be richly rewarded for the lives you have touched.

About Me

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I think, read and write. I might review books, mull on music, spin original poems, share insights or tell stories, but you can be sure whatever you read here comes from a thoughtful and considered place within.

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