A Woman's Voice


WATCHING MY SCOTTY GROW–November 22, 2010 by Barbara Rusell-Robinson

Posted in MEMORY LANE by doloresayotte on November 22, 2010
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MEMORY LANE

As I gazed at the picture of the little blonde, blue-eyed boy, I worried and questions and “what-if’s” ran through my mind. Would he make it home safely? What if his grandmother wrecked the car? Dear God, I prayed, bring my son safely home to me. I looked at the little boy in the red T-shirt that contrasted with his pale hair, blue eyes, and smiling face, and I imagined and worried about all kinds of things. Why, you heard of entire families getting into horrible accidents on the interstate highways! Please God, don’t let that happen to that innocent child. Scotty’s only four years old.

He was the first-born son in our family, my eldest son. This was the first time his grandmother had taken him on an all-day trip. His other grandmother, my mother, would have a fit if she knew. Her only boy was born dead, and she’d  always wanted a baby boy. Scotty was that baby boy!

They traveled to Eight Flags in Mississippi. We lived in Louisiana, and I’d never traveled much, so I found myself spending the day worrying about my son. I couldn’t concentrate on anything else.

I remembered back to picking out a name for him. A country music song titled “Watching Scotty Grow” was popular, and I’d chosen Scotty for my newborn baby boy’s name because I loved that song. Now, I wanted to be able to watch my Scotty grow. I tried to busy myself working outside in the yard I loved so much with my flowers, but my mind stayed on Scotty. Again, I looked at the picture. Four bright smiling faces looked back at me. His older sister, Paula, and two cousins were in the picture, but for some reason, it was Scotty’s little face smiling at me that I found myself glued to.

I remembered how I always thought my own mom was over protective and worried too much. I had to laugh at myself for being just like her. I always thought she was an old worrywart and look at me. I had turned out just like her. All day long, I kept having nagging doubts and getting a strong feeling that maybe I shouldn’t have  let my son go on that out-of-state trip. As parents, there have probably been times that we have all doubted our decisions this way. I could have keep my son home with me, where I could have kept a close eye on him and made sure he was safe all day, but I had chosen to let him go to Eight Flags. I only hoped and prayed I wouldn’t regret it. I found myself laughing at my own foolishness. I had faith in God, and I knew worry was useless, so why was I wasting the beautiful day the Lord made in worry?

Finally, the car pulled into the drive and kids tumbled out in an array of bright colors and smiling faces. I ran to Scotty, and he ran to me with his little arms flung wide. Thank you, God, for bringing my son safely back home to me, I said under my breath, as happy eager little arms hugged my neck and squeezed tightly.

“I saw deer, Mommy!”

“You did!”

“They were real. They let us pet them, too.”

“Sounds like you had fun.”

“We did.”

Now that my son was safely home, I was glad I’d let him take the trip, and he never knew the day of agony that trip cost his mother until now. You see, I never told anyone, because I knew they’d say I was just another old worrywart.

Scotty is a grown man now, with his own family and children, three girls and a boy. I wonder if he ever has such worries and if he could ever be considered an old worrywart like his mom. That little blue-eyed blonde boy became a greasy automotive mechanic, turned carpenter, turned manager of a place where automobiles are brought for oil changes.

I’m so proud of him for the father he’s become. He’s a hard-working, middle-class, blue-collared dad, but his sons and daughters never lack for their daddy’s loving attention. In my heart, I know that sometimes that tough, greasy automotive mechanic can be said to be an old worrywart like his mom and grandmother before him. No matter how strong or tough you are, whenever there are children involved, you can’t help but worry about them. This I know from watching my Scotty grow.

Now, that my children are grown and gone, I’ve placed them in God’s care, and I pray for them and their families daily, and I remember watching my Scotty grow and how the song I named him after ends. For, I can no longer watch over him, but God still does. My oldest son’s name is Scotty Edbert Dragg. His middle name is after my father.

 

B. J. Robinson lives in Florida with her husband and cocker spaniel, Sunflower. Visit her at http://barbarajrobinson.blogspot.com. She loves to read and write and enjoys writing about her family and pets as well as writing novels.

Thanks Barb for sharing another great article with my readers and me!  

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14 Responses to 'WATCHING MY SCOTTY GROW–November 22, 2010 by Barbara Rusell-Robinson'

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  1. Iarah said,

    I can sooo relate to this. Whenever my girls go out of town….or on some trip without me I live with my heart in my mouth until I see their happy faces again. Leaving them to Him to care for when I can’t be there….is something I’m learning to do.


    • Larah, I’m glad you could relate. Thanks for taking the time to let me know. Appreciate it. Blessings, Barb

  2. Laura Davis said,

    Thank you for sharing. I can be a bit of a worrywart as well, so I can totally relate. I think it’s a mom thing. My mother is 83 next month. I’m 52 and she’s still worrying about me. When I have a cold, she’ll call me everyday it seems, just to find out if I’m okay. While at times I think her worrying about me is a little excessive, I am convinced that she just can’t break out of the “Mommy” role and I wonder if all Moms are a tad overanxious for their children, no matter how old their children are.


    • Laura, I think it truly is a mom-thing 🙂 and thanks so much for commenting. Glad you could identify with my story. Blessings, Barb

  3. Jen S. said,

    Loved this post. Personally, I’d rather grab on with both hands. Or find a nice, safe closet with a thick padlock to hide our baby girl in. But you are right, it comes down to faith in God. For me, I had to learn that even the difficult situations in my daughter’s life were part of God’s plan to mold and grow her. Kinda like immunizations, I guess. Painful, but necessary.


    • Hi Jen, thanks for reading and commenting. You’re so right. When we look back and reflect, we can better understand why God allowed some of the difficult situations they’ve gone through. It’s the same for me. Blessings, Barb

  4. Audra Krell said,

    Such a sweet wonderful story. I feel the exact same way. Of course I will never want them to feel that way when I take their kids someday! : )


    • Audra,
      Most of the time I never felt that way, but it was an out-of-state trip I wasn’t used to. Now, we know how they feel though. Thanks for reading and commenting. I’m glad you enjoyed the story. Blessings, Barb

  5. Nan Jones said,

    I recently told my middle son – age 24 – that even when he was 95 he would still be my baby, so he had better get used to me “mommying” him all the time. Did I mention that he is 6’5″ and VERY independent? I think “mommying” them is a God-given right! Can I get an amen?

  6. Kathy Eberly said,

    Barbara, I have always loved that song! I can relate to watching the children grow up and it seems like it’s a blink of an eye. I still have a hard time believing that they are all grown.


  7. Kathy, thanks for reading and commenting. I’m glad you can identify. Time flies and waits for no man. I wrote another story titled “Scotty’s Jeans” about how time flies. I enjoy writing about my family and pets, and it makes me happy to know that others enjoy reading it. Blessings, Barb

  8. hope_rising said,

    what a nice story, your son sounds like an amazing young man! I wonder if he worries like you did, I bet he does.

    I don’t have children of my own, but I am in the older ranks of a very large family and spent many a night worried about my sisters while they were out. I would never be able to sleep until I knew everyone was home. Worry is just so hard!

    thanks for sharing such a sweet story!


    • Hi Hope Rising, thanks for letting me know you enjoyed the story. Each time I see your name I think of a book I loved Esperanza Rising, which means Hope Rising 🙂 Blessings, Barb


  9. What grabbed me right away was the title of the post “Watching my Scotty Grow” – I thought – it HAS to have something to do with the song:

    “Watching Scotty Grow by Bobby Goldsboro”… Here’s a link to listen to that song:

    You see, my older brother (and oldest sibling) is name is Scott. We had the song on a 45 and I listened to it over and over on my Fisher Price record player. I absolutely love that song … and I’m glad you reminded me of it because it brings back good memories – so I’m going to download it… it’s a beautiful song… and I can see why you would love it so much – just as my Dad did too…

    Parents will always being worrywarts – but is that such a bad thing?

    Last year miscarried later in my pregnancy and I don’t think the pain will ever go away – but I know it was God’s plan – and that the baby wasn’t ready for this world yet…

    I know I’m all over the place here – but I just loved your story – it was so sweet and it reminded me of my childhood and how my parents worried (at the time I thought) too much! 🙂 And it reminded me of going on trips with my wonderful and loving grandparents whom I miss every single day…

    Mostly what this reminded me of is that we can worry – but ultimately everything is in God’s hands… and we can’t do anything about it – he has a plan for each and every one of us… and it’s comforting to know that (not matter how those plans turn out sometimes – like mine did).

    I don’t know a lot of other “Scotty’s” out there besides my own brother – so reading this AND the fact that you enjoyed the same song my family did was really neat.

    I leave with the final lyric to this beautiful song:

    “I think I’ll stay right here and say a prayer before I go; Me and God are watching Scotty grow”

    Great post – THANK YOU for sharing and for bringing back some own memories for me 🙂

    Blessings,
    Christine


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