TEARS, TATTOOS AND THE TENDER WISDOM OF A FIVE-YEAR-OLD

 

The older I get, the more proficiently skilled I seem to get in lachrymation secretion.  Uninhibitable and unstoppable.  Involuntary and indiscrete.  Volatile and vulnerable.  No, it’s not a weird, gross medical condition.  I shed tears.  I cry.  Every time…. My heart swells with love….I cry.  My heart is butchered by death/betrayal/rejection/injustice….I cry.  My heart is touched by something profoundly beautiful/pure/amazing….I cry.  My heart breaks for the pain of others….I cry.  Back in 1994, I didn’t cry because Mufasa died.  My little boy Daniel loved that movie and he watched it again and again.  Every time he hoped that Mufasa would not die and every time his hope would be shattered.  In 1994, I cried for Daniel’s pain.  Today, I still cry for Daniel’s pain.  In his story he is Mufasa, his beloved Sarabi died and their little Simba had to learn to navigate little-kid-life without a mommy.  

There are four little beings who take a definite front seat in causing severe love swelling of my heart, and by implication, who make me cry.  They are the cutest, brightest and most gifted little people to ever walk this planet.  Micah Munchkin, Emily Boo and Addie Pie make my heart so very happy and I cannot wait to meet currently-15-weeks-in-utero Stitchie, God willing, around my birthday in October.  I might not be that advanced in age, but the author of Proverbs nailed it by stating that grandchildren are the crowning glory of the aged.  WARNING TO ALL:  Do NOT mess with my crown(ing) glory!  I don’t just cry, I also fight…but this reflection is not about my fiesty fierce ferociousness.

It all started in the Spring of 2018.  Micah Daniel van Aswegen was born to my firstborn son, Daniel and his now late wife, Carli, my first daughter-in-love.  My beloved Assie and I became first time grandparents to the most adorable little being to ever live on this planet at the time!  He was a double-blessing rainbow baby after his young parents suffered two miscarriages and by the time he was three years old, he suffered the unspeakably tragic loss of his mommy to brain cancer.  Yet, despite all of the pain, suffering and grief, it became undeniably clear, early on, that Micah is abundantly blessed with an exceptionally keen, agile and inquisitive mind.  As an English-speaking little boy who attends an Afrikaans school and an Afrikaans church, he speaks both English and Afrikaans fluently without even an inkling of an accent.  As Micah’s only English-speaking grandparent, I became Nana to him, and thereafter, I became Nana to all of my grandchildren.  Upon Carli’s special request, I also had the privilege of being Nana-Mommy to him for a few years after she had passed on.  I cherish not only the special bond we share, but also the priceless life lessons I learn from him.  His innate ability to memorise large amounts of complex information, process it intelligibly and then communicate it flawlessly, leaves me pretty stymied most of the time.  

Micah and Emily regularly attend Kleurkabouters (a ministry class for pre-schoolers) at my beloved Pellissier Gemeente.  Most Sunday mornings Assie and I leave our home a little earlier to stop by their homes to fetch them and take them to church with us.  For a few weeks now, Micah had also been looking forward to Kinderpinkster which started on Sunday evening.  Kinderpinkster is the Kleurkabouters-version of our annual Pentecost celebration, and it caters for young primary school children.  I’m not sure which one excites Micah more, going to church 4 nights in a row or stopping by the new coffee shop to buy a giant purple slushy…!

On Sunday morning, Micah initiated the following conversation with OupaAssie and myself in the car on the way to church:

Micah:  What’s wrong with your eyes, Nana?

Nana:  Nothing my sweetheart, why do you ask?

Micah:  Your eyes are surrounded by billions of wrinkles!

OupaAssie:  Micah, those wrinkles around Nana’s eyes are her smile tattoos.  She has a lot of those, because she smiles a lot.

Micah:  Oh okay.  You’re just the best, Nana!

After Kleurkabouters, on our walk to the car, we had the following conversation:

Nana:  Did you enjoy Kleurkabouters?

Micah:  Yes, they spoiled us with music.

Nana (somewhat confused about the possible ambiguity in Micah’s choice of words):  Was it good?  Did you enjoy the music?

Micah:  Yes!  Nana, you know, it was like when tannie Let spoiled me with music in her new car and oom Pietie was still alive.

We took Micah back to his house and arranged to fetch him again at 18:00 for Kinderpinkster.  On the way home, I regurgitated on Micah’s words.  The music at Kleurkabouters made him happy.  He used the word SPOIL and he meant that it blessed him, not make him go bad, like spoiled food.  It also triggered a happy memory with a now heartbreakingly grief-stricken widow (tannie Let) who just recently lost her beloved soulmate-husband of 28 years (oom Pietie).  Just a month ago, Micah attended the memorial service for oom Pietie.  He knows that oom Pietie is gone and that tannie Let is heartbroken.  Yet, Micah is happy.

Later on Sunday, I left church a little before 18:00 to fetch Micah for Kinderpinkster.  He had his daddy’s buff-bandana-thingy around his head and refused to leave it at home.  It was just the two of us in the car as OupaAssie was already at church, teaching a catechism class.  Micah started our conversation:

Micah:  Nana, you know, OupaAssie & oom Charles also smile a lot, because they also have lots of smile tattoos like you.

Nana:  Yes my sweetheart, you are absolutely correct.  Well done on being so observant!  Can I ask you a question?

Micah:  Yes Nana, go ahead.

Nana:  Would you please leave the buff-bandana-thingy in the car once we get to church?  It obstructs your beautiful face.

Micah (now somewhat reserved and a little sad):  No Nana, I want to keep it with me.  It belongs to my daddy and I like to have it with me.  I will move it off my face.

My mind goes back to the sweet and innocent analogy Assie used that morning to define wrinkles to Micah.  Smile tattoos.  It surely is age-appropriate and simple.  I smile, because I am proud of my “billion” smile tattoos.  But my smile is tragically short-lived and before long, I feel the sudden influx of involuntary tears rapidly filling my eyes.  The truth is that tears beat smiles hands down when it comes to the formation of my own eye tattoos.  I take a deep breath, swallow down hard on the tears in my throat and smile at Micah in the rear view mirror.  I give him the brightest, widest smile I can muster while desperately hoping that my tears will go unnoticed by his highly perceptive little eyes.  He is ONLY five years old!  There will come a time, someday in the future, where I would sit him down and give him the 4-1-1 on the specific part of human biology where wrinkles are the kindest symptom of the brutal life-threatening condition called aging.  For now, his Nana, his OupaAssie and his best friend oom Charles all have smile tattoos around their eyes.  Perhaps it was due to the sadness in his own little heart, but he did not notice my tears. 

At church, I joined Assie for evening service and Micah went to Kinderpinkster.  The buff-bandana-thingy stayed on his head, but off his face for the entire evening.  In the car, on the way home, once again, Micah started the conversation:

Micah (listening to the music playing on the car radio):  Nana, is the name of this song Fernando?

Nana:  Yes, it’s a song by a group called ABBA.  Please tell me again about tannie Let’s music?

Micah:  She spoiled me with her music.  I liked it.  It was happy music, not like Fernando.  It made me think of my mommy.

Nana:  Thank you, now I understand.

Truth be told, I did not really understand at all.  Not even by a long shot!  I just wanted to hide my tears and I was just so grateful that the after sunset darkness of late Autumn rendered the interior of the car pitch black and made it impossible to see my eyes.  My eyes were filled with the tears I cried all through praise and worship and again with the declaration of God’s blessing at the end of the service.  I was completely flummoxed by this little boy’s authentic happiness and his heartfelt gratitude for the blessing of the music at Kleurkabouters.  The music at Kleurkabouters was NOT the same music as in tannie Let’s car.  What am I missing?  He is happy and all I do, is sob, wail and weep.

By Monday evening service, I had “upgraded” from only crying during praise & worship to crying through the entire service.  It was unstoppable.  It was embarrassing.  BUT…  It was wonderful.  It was beautiful.  AND it felt as if I was on holy, sacred ground.  Something is happening in my heart and I cannot quite explain it yet, but there are two things I know for sure.  I need to retire my SAD playlist and replace it with a HAPPY playlist, which does not include Fernando.  AND even if crying causes wrinkles, they will ALWAYS be smile tattoos.