A Pinch of Salt

Late last week I received a call from my oldest son with worried words no grandparent ever wants to hear.  “She’s sick, Mom.”  My sweet, innocent grand-daughter was on her way to Children’s Hospital together with her dear mommy.  Soon to be admitted with a tender tummy and a possible infection.  I took a breath to calm my nerves, offering support to my son and his wife.  Such a helpless feeling in my head.

The next morning my husband and I were off to the hospital.  I was struck by the guard who stopped us at the front desk.  “Who are you,” he asked in an accusatory tone?  “Grandparents,” we responded in unison.  There, ‘mug shots’ were taken for a pale blue badge that was stuck to the front of our jackets.  I looked down at mine.  Directly below my picture it read, “Grandparent,” making me feel important on that day….in some small way.

A nice lady with hair of gentle white directed us to the elevators at the end of the hall.  Pressing the red button we waited until the door opened when a flood of young parents trampled out.  I noticed one in particular.  With her left hand she covered her mouth, while wiping tears from her eyes of brown with her right.   I looked down.

The emotion was almost palpable once inside the elevator.  It lingered, surrounding the tiny silver space where a button board of colored numbers lit up for me to choose.  Up, up, up, we rode to the floor where our little grand-daughter waited to see us.

There she sat with her loving Mommy, happily on a small sofa near a picture window filled with sunshine.  Smiles filled the room while she played with ‘new babies,’ magical ponies and read books that afternoon.  Daddy joined us for “really good” mac-n-cheese, plus three or four or five brightly colored “M & M’s”as special treats to eat.

Thankfully, our grand-daughter was pronounced perfectly healthy!   After a couple of days she went home with Mommy and Daddy where her baby brother and “Nimby” dog eagerly awaited her arrival.  Such happy news to hear!

Still, I think of the young mother who rushed off the elevator that first day.  The one whose eyes of teary brown held a recipe of heartache.

 Bread of Chronic Conditions: Two tablespoons of pain, 1 teaspoon of agony, a dash of shock with a pinch of denial.  Mix thoroughly together with tears in a bowl large enough to hold a soul.  Form into a lifetime loaf.  Bake at 350 loving degrees until strength and courage being to form.  Lives begin to raise as acceptance takes shape.  Gradually a ‘Momma’ becomes more at peace. When center springs forth to gentle finger-touch, remove loaf from oven to rest upon a warm kitchen counter rack.  The mother is no longer afraid to believe in happiness.  Her child’s innocence together with dreams and wishes become the very most important thing on earth.  Together, mother with child believe that anything is possible, wishing upon stars to make future dreams come true.  Before long they truly do.

*This recipe is ‘American Tested’  in kitchens by mothers everywhere. 





21 thoughts on “A Pinch of Salt

  1. Beautiful post. I’m so glad to hear that your granddaughter has recovered, and my heart goes out to the young mother you saw. I’ll certainly be thinking of her tonight. xx


    • Thank you, Topaz on both counts. Yes, I thank God for my grand-daughter’s blessing, while my heart aches for the young mother I briefly connected with. Praying she somehow finds peace, courage and strength perhaps through the ‘recipe’ I wrote.


  2. Events like this always seem to offer a springboard to a whole book. Not that many of us have the time to write them, or in my case a wild enough imagination. One day…


    • Whew…me too, Sally. I was a nervous wreck! “Nothing” found which I’m both thankful for and bothered by. Guess, I’m a researcher by nature. I want to know, ‘why?’ But, all is good for now so Bless God for all good fortune. Yes, my heart still aches for the young mother who passed me at the elevator as as I have walked in her shoes. If only I could giver her hug and tell her how good life will be one day! Thank you, Sally. 🙂


  3. I am glad she is home and doing well. When my Tween was 5 I spent a week sleeping beside her in hospital whilst she recovered from pneumonia. I remember the pain I felt in my heart as I lay back on her bed with her held against me whilst doctors looked for veins in which to put another drip or to take blood. The whole experience was gut wrenching. Thank goodness it only lasted a few days.


  4. I so know that feeling, it really tears a parents heart when their child needs medical attention.
    I spent hours in a humicrib holding onto my baby boy as he fought acute eppiglotittis.
    He survived but the memory of that heartbreaking time can never go away.
    To this day it breaks my heart to see any child sick or suffering.
    I am pleased that it all turned out well for you all.


    • My heart goes out to you and your son, Ian. No, the “memory” never goes away, does it? Thank God, he is well, and my little grand-daughter too. Bless you for your kind heart full of thoughtfulness.


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