Ragamufffins?

The telephone’s ringing woke me from late evening tv sleep. The oldest son’s name glowed, backlit by the screen. His voice is deeper and softer than the other two.

“Momma, do you remember ever calling us ragamufffins?”

What? No. Sleep clogged my memory bank. Had I? I hoped not. Where’d I heard the word last?

A silly conversation between my son and daughter-in-law had led to the phone call.

After we’d sorted out the memory and searched for a definition of the word, I’d concluded, no, we’d never called our boys ragamufffins. No, we’d straight up used the word orphan, which the beloved son then remembered. Yes. That was it. Orphan.

A ragamuffin or an orphan is someone who doesn’t belong. That’s not always bad. Not the way we usually define those words. Sometimes, they’re just people who are not caught in this world. They belong to another, to a greater being, to a higher power.

I shook my head, sighing as we ended the call. Great, just great. Good job, mom. Of all the child rearing triumphs and failures, this is one of the memories that sort of stuck.

Thirty minutes after the phone call, I remembered my last run-in with the word ragamuffin. Rich Mullins and the Ragamuffin Band. I’d shown the movie to my boys a few years earlier and gotten mixed reviews.

Well, I’d liked it. Rich Mullins had been popular in my day. And the movie is good. So, I text my son. Maybe he’d remember the movie, too. Not that the movie really had anything to do with the earlier phone call, but I had a sudden need for him to remember.

This post from a few months back sat drafted and forgotten amid the rush of my work days and my menopausal sleepless nights. Then today, the blue-eyed boy and his bride sat with us for a stolen hour, the last of their Christmas week off before a few hours of driving home.

Have you ever tried to breathe in every moment, like a scent you want to remember? Grown kids move away. Their phone calls become the filler between gasping absences and their visits like our need to breathe.

Ragamufffins? Hardly.

An honest list for the daughters in my life…

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I keep thinking about that last post with its list and those sons. One list has bumped its way into a next, falling into line, one thought after another.

See, we started adding daughters in law to our family mix a little over two years ago, and our family dynamic quickly changed. Now we’re up to two marriages and one very serious relationship.

There are some things these girls really need to know, like, how I fear failing them.

I fear not measuring up against their own amazing moms. I fear giving them bad advice. I fear they’ll see all my mistakes and faults, and not through any character shortcoming of their own, simply not be able to see past mine.

And so, another list for things I’d like these girls to know I said.

  1. I think you’re beautiful.
  2. I don’t how how my son got so lucky.
  3. God blessed our family with you.
  4. I admire the woman you are and wish I’d known the girl.
  5. I think you’re scary brilliant.
  6. I couldn’t have made a better choice for someone to love my son.
  7. Your talent continually amazes me.
  8. I’m grateful, thankful, and thrilled for the way you love Jesus.
  9. You’re going to be an outstanding mom.
  10. I owe a debt of gratitude to your parents for the way they raised you.
  11. I hope and I pray that we become better friends every year.
  12. Sometimes, I wish you lived next door.
  13. You’re the daughter I always wanted.IMG_4254
  14. The way you look into his eyes, melts this momma’s heart.
  15. You should open that business you dream of.
  16. You’re the woman I wish I could have been at your age.
  17. I prayed for you all your life and still do. Every. Single. Day.
  18. Being a soulmate is the second hardest job in the world. You are doing fantastic.
  19. I’ve prayed every single day of his life that he’d be the man of God, husband, and father of your future children that you need him to be.
  20. Thank you for being the daughter, sister, and example that you are to your family and ours.

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The thing I’m learning about listing is that none of the numbers apply to just one person. The numbers all have their niche in each life. So, there are more lists to come, but this is the end of this one for now.

Love,

Momma Ruth

More listing next time…