Because I Dreamed

Juju.  It's a name given to me by toddlers who couldn't pronounce "Judy". It's a name.  Not a belief, not a practice of witchcraft, or voodoo. It's a name...that stuck. I am Juju. I am a grandma.  And when I became a grandma I didn't feel worthy of grandma status. Grandmas have gray hair. Grandmas have facial hair. Grandmas wear corsets, and braziers, and have false teeth. Grandmas are awesome! So all my grandkids, and many others who love me, now refer to me as Juju. I am Juju, and there's nothing that warms my soul quite like hearing that. 

When my eldest grandchild, Reese, was 4 years old I remember the day we were attempting to explain to him the family structure. "I am your Mommy's mommy", I said. "That makes me your grandma".  
"No!" he rebutted, "I don't have a grandma, I have a Juju!"  He is 9 now, and I recently heard him explaining the family structure to the youngest members of our clan, "she's Juju, but she really is our grandma." 
As quaint as this may be, to me it brings up the dilemma of aging.  Aging when you aren't really ready for it. Aging into "grandma". Aging into a body that surely must belong to someone else... unfamiliar, awkward, baggy, saggy, uncooperative, with weird hair and spotted skin, other-worldly moans and groans, and strange noises from the digestive tract. Just-yesterday-I was-30 kind of madness, and now 5 not so little offspring of my offspring call me Their Juju! Yikes! How did this happen so fast?! Why does it feel like I skipped ahead, spacing out an entire eon of my life?  What happened to my dreams? My bucket list? The things God promised me? (I have a dream book, you know.)

At 30 I was just starting to really like me, coming to grips with all my oddities and finally feeling I had enough credibility for people to take me seriously and listen to what I had to say. I had finally figured out which beauty products worked for me, how to communicate to my husband, how to parent my children (at least to some degree), and what to fix for dinner. Turning 40 was hard. Wow, really felt like a landmark. I couldn't go back, now I was "mature" with kids who could make their own choices, and a husband with graying hair with his own other-worldly digestive tract noises. A jumbled mess of life and years and suddenly I was 50. I must have blinked, because I can't recall much of the gentle passing of years, the drama, the productions, the high school graduations, engagements, weddings...but babies,I recall the babies. 

The babies are the gift from God that remind you…that bring everything back into perspective. The babies that grow into amazing human “beans” keep you focused on what’s really important, what God’s plan was all along.  They are not only completely spectacular in themselves, but they creatively carry our DNA. My strengths AND weaknesses. My talents to the 20th power! (A friend of ours once told us my daughter was me to the 10th power, so by reasonable deduction…there you go…) These GRAND people, what can they NOT do? Who can they NOT become? What can they NOT accomplish?! 

You see, this one thing I have come to know. Not because of intelligence or wisdom. Just because IT IS….Your Dreams Don’t Die With You.  Dreams that are birthed of God live. THEY LIVE! They LIVE to fulfillment! They live to be accomplished! They exist! They come alive in our children, and in their children, and in their children’s children. Don’t stop dreaming. EVER!  Don’t stop dreaming just because you have reached a certain age. Don’t stop dreaming because you can’t see it ever happening in your lifetime. Don’t stop. Keep dreaming. The dreams live. They exist. And someday, your GRAND children will be living your dreams…not because they dreamed them, but because YOU did.