Why I Had Children

[I make no apologies for this entry, but I do tell you right up front it is filled with pictures and thoughts from a still-smitten grandmother. I still encourage you to read to the end.]

The Georgia National Fair is a huge event in the town where I live. This year saw a record of over 500,000 fair-goers. My husband, children and I have been attending every year's event since its inauguration in 1989 when Ray Stevens was the featured entertainer. Yes, our children have practically grown up riding "The Gentle Giant" Ferris wheel, feeding exotic animals and watching more circus acts than most people their ages can boast. But it's what we did; and what we still do.

However, this year was different. Of the 11 days that the fair was in town, our 4 year old grandson was here for the first 5 of them. What was really only to be a one day excursion turned into 5 days of fun; and, boy, what fun we had!

Each morning began with the little fellow sitting in my lap out on the deck in the Adirondack chair cuddled up in a honey colored blanket. Sometimes we would read, but most of the time we would just watch the birds. He got quite proficient at naming the "Go, Dog!" birds (a.k.a. cardinals) and telling me whether they were girl birds or boy birds. On more than one occasion, a flock of noisy geese flew over. I taught him one should not gawk heavenward when that happens but rather close his mouth. We watched woodpeckers and doves and hummingbirds among many other assorted feathered friends. And his belly laugh at the squirrels chasing each other around and around the tree was enough to make this grandmother chuckle out loud herself.

Before too long, the day was in full force and it was time for some fair fun and food.

His cousin accompanied us on several days.

Dumbo was the first ride.

Way up in the sky on the Gentle Giant Ferris wheel took some nerve.

Learning to flip on the trampoline was a major accomplishment.

On to the train.

The world famous carousel! One must always ride (including this grandmother) this one.
Not only was it in the movie, "Big," with Tom Hanks, Elvis Presley himself also did a gig with this one.

The brave young man tackled the swing.

Getting on our game faces for Robinson"s Racing Pigs.

He fed EVERY animal at the petting zoo -- except for the huge cow with the daunting horns. I don't blame him.

We stayed so late that first night that we even got to watch the fireworks.

His Uncle Bobba's tepee is always a hit -- and fun. And being family, they got to cross the "Do Not Cross" rope.

We saw cows but we got to ride horses.

The Agrilift at night is a must.

And at the Saturday morning parade, we got to meet Minion.

He begged to do the Muttin' Bustin', but this is as close as we would let him get without his parent's permission. Maybe next year, little man.

I-flip was a hit!

As were the bumper cars.

An up close encounter with a REAL race car.

Cutest little Captain America I ever did see.

He rode the race car roller coaster with Uncle Charles.

And the Tidal Wave.

And the bumper cars again.

He got to fly solo for a change.

And climb a rock -- sort of. 8 feet was about as high as he would go.  After 45 minutes of waiting in line.

Day 5 found his mom and dad in tow and him sportin' a tiger's face. 

Did I mention he liked the bumper cars?

And the roller coaster.

We drank milk and milked cows.

And we discovered that trees can walk and talk.

We also went to the circus, saw the pirate show, the magic show, watched the monkey show, the sea lion show and spent way too long in the building demonstrating to us the process of growing a chicken. We ate corndogs, hotdogs, hamburgers, chicken strips, roasted corn and funnel cake. And, yes, he and his cousin even danced wildly to Grand Funk Railroad's,"We're an American Band," as they played live on stage opening night. Yes, fun was indeed had by all. But especially by this grandmother.

The end of Day 5 saw our little man safely strapped into his car seat after having been kissed profusely and thanked a hundred times for coming. As they always do, his daddy rolled down the window so we could see him waving to us and so we could throw one more kiss. And as the Jeep was placed in reverse and began making its way to the end of the driveway, my grandson waved one more time and yelled, "Thank you, G-Nan! I loved watching the birds with you!"

YES!!!!!!! A thousand times YES, my sweet one. So did I. So did I.

And that, my friends, is why I had children.

Children's children are a crown to the aged. 

Proverbs 17:6

Just an ordinary moment...

G-Nan, Sing Me Your Song

All children know how to do it: extend bedtime. 

"Can I have a drink of water?" 

"I didn't kiss daddy goodnight." 

"I have to go potty." 

And so when my grandson was with me a few weeks ago, his method of "extension" didn't take this grandmother by surprise. 

"G-Nan, will you rock me?" 

Our bedtime ritual is quite a lengthy one. First there's the bath (complete with bubbles and monster trucks), followed by a naked run to the den to see his Geezer before the Batman pajamas are donned. After which, he climbs up into the lap of his granddaddy where they share some chips and dip. From there, it's back to the bathroom to brush the teeth with the Spiderman toothbrush before heading to the bedroom for bedtime stories and prayers. I allow 4 books of choice before the lights go out. Lately it has been The Little Red Caboose, Casey the Cowboy, a selected story from his Bible, and always ending with Night Night Blessings. Then the little fellow is tucked into his junior bed (that his great-grandfather made), the night light turtle is turned on transforming the ceiling into a night sky, prayers are said, and I stand to leave the room ... when I hear, "G-Nan, will you rock me?"

Ah, it may be a ploy to stay up later, but what grandmother in her rightful mind could turn down such a request? Rock her baby one more time? Especially one that is growing up right before her eyes? And so, off come the covers, out of the bed and into my lap he climbs with ALL of his "lovies." And then in that starlit ceiling darkness, he looks up at me with those big brown eyes and says, "G-Nan, sing me your song." 

And so I begin, "Jesus loves me, this I know; for the Bible tells me so." 

"No, no," he says, as he sits up straight and looks at me. "That's my song. Sing me your song." And then he nestles back into my lap holding tightly to his lovies waiting for me to begin anew.

I have to admit, it takes me a little by surprise. I have never given much thought to what my song might be. And so I begin singing what I consider a favorite of mine.

My Jesus I love Thee; I know Thou art mine.

For Thee all the follies of sin I resign...

My gracious Redeemer, My Savior art Thou,

If ever I loved Thee, My Jesus, 'tis now.

He seems content with that. And then asks for another.

Great is Thy faithfulness, O God, my Father,

There is no shadow of turning with Thee;

Thou changest not, Thou compassions they fail not;

As Thou has been Thou forever wilt be.

And as long as he is willing to rock and listen, I am willing to rock and sing.

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound...

O Lord, My God, when I in awesome wonder, consider all the worlds Thy hands have made...

I come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses...

Holy Spirit, living breath of God, breathe new life into this willing soul...

Every now and again, I try to throw in Jesus Loves Me or Jesus Loves the Little Children, but it is always the same thing, "No, no. That's MY song. Sing YOUR song."

Here's the truth in my grandson's request: our lives sing. Whether we are participating in a church choir, feeding the poor, sitting in front of a computer screen, washing dishes or rocking a grand baby, our lives sing something that is unique and individual to each of us. The question is, what kind of song is it? Do our lives sing songs of joy or sorrow? Of faith or fear? Of praise or complaint? Of life or lament? 

One thing I noticed while rocking and singing to my grandson was that he was humming while I softly sang. My song was pouring over into him and he, too, was singing. He took up my song.

Yes, every life has a song. Every life sings. And regardless of what it is, it's a catchy tune.  The question is, what is YOUR life singing? What is MY life singing? And is it worth another's humming it?

"G-Nan, sing me your song." Oh, yes, my little boy. Indeed I will.

Just an ordinary moment...

A Saturday in the Park ... or Marietta Square

The party was held across the street at Marietta Pizza. At least that's where we gathered for lunch to celebrate and love on a certain little fellow turning 3.

From the paper on the presents to the car on the cake, the theme was Lightning McQueen from top to bottom.

After pizza, singing happy birthday, blowing out candles,

eating cake, and one last pitstop, we headed across the street to Marietta Square for a little run in the sun to wear off some sugar. I told the little guy he had to hold my hand to cross the street, to which he quickly agreed, keeping it there all the way up to the fountain in the middle of the square where he let go and immediately flung his body prostrate on the bricks, plunging his newly released hand into the still icy water.

Upon seeing the coins, he said, "I need some money." Of course, this grandmother went straight to her purse, and when the pennies were gone, started handing out nickels, all to the delights of a little boy with a strong throwing arm.

The next hour was spent following the now 3-year old all over the square: from the fountain to the stage, back to the fountain, to the stage again, to the fountain, to the train, to the stage, to the train, to the fountain and on and on it went until he grabbed his "Fred" from his daddy, looked at his mommy and said, "I'm ready to go home now." She gathered him in her arms, and he stuck his thumb in his mouth and placed his head on her shoulder. He had played enough and it was nap time.

It has been a long time since I witnessed so much energy. But I can tell you one thing, there was never a single moment when his parents' or grandparents' eyes were not on that child and when we were not following him every step he made. Whether he was up to his elbows in fountain water, doing "tricks" on the stage,

sliding down the slide

or ringing the bell on the train,

he was under our watchful eye and care. And yes, while we were enjoying his merriment, we were also making sure he didn't plunge into the water, fall off the stage, topple from the train or run into the street. 

And as I followed him from the train back to the stage for at least the 4th time, a thought suddenly occurred to me: is this not how God sees me? Am I not constantly under HIS watchful eye? And in that watching, does He, too, not find joy?

For some reason, we have bought into the lie that God is some stern Judge in the sky who is constantly waiting -- watching -- for us to mess up, to commit again that sin that so besets and torments us, to fall off that slippery slope. Why are we so determined to make Him into someone He is not? Why can we not believe that He is a God who delights in watching us even MORE than a grandmother delights in watching her grandson play? Yes! We are forever under His watchful eye. But He isn't tallying our wrongs. He isn't say, "Yep,I knew you'd mess it up again." No, He's crediting our faithfulness as righteousness according to Romans 4. Why can we not get that?

Dear one, embrace the fact that Your God not only beholds you as the apple of His eye, but He rejoices over You with singing and He dances over you with great celebration. Yes, even more than a grandmother watching her grandson on a Saturday in the square. And as anybody knows, that's a bucket load of JOY!

Just an ordinary moment...

Dink You

I just got back from a weekend of keeping one precious little man.  I can hardly believe he's almost 2 years old.  Time doesn't slow down for the grandbabies anymore than it did for my own children.  I told his mom what my own mother told me: Enjoy this time.  In a blink of an eye, he'll be grown.  And he will.  

One thing for sure, his little personality continues to develop more and more every time I see him, with his vernacular expanding at an exponential rate as well.  He still has long conversations with me that sound Portuguese.  Usually it's something very funny, because when he's through, he'll just laugh and laugh.  And so will I.  Yet more and more words are becoming decipherable.  But two in particular.  He has learned the word "please" ... or "pease."  His mother and I laughed at how he thinks he can get anything he wants just by saying that little word.  And she's mostly right....  But, gratefully, he's added yet another phrase to his vocabulary that somehow completes the first.  "Dink you."  I give him one of G-Nan's cheese straws: "dink you."  Give him his cup: "dink you."  Set him down from his high chair: "dink you."  Even when my husband strapped him into the car seat and threw his jacket over him to give him a little extra warmth due to Saturday's cold weather, he looked at his Geezer and said, "dink you."  

Oh, sweet child, may "dink you" become the habit of your life ... one that you never outgrow.

And may thankfulness become the practice and conformity of my own existence as well.

Be cheerful no matter what; 

pray all the time; 

thank God no matter what happens.  

This is the way God wants you who belong to Christ Jesus to live.

1 Thessalonians 5:16

Just an ordinary moment...

Watching With Eyes of Love

If you know anything about me at all, you know I love being a grandmother.  When it comes to grandparenting, I’ve heard it said that the best two sights in the world are the headlights and tail lights, but not me.  I love to see that little fellow pull into our driveway, and when the visit is complete, a huge lump forms in my throat and tears well up in my eyes every time the car pulls away.  And so it was with great joy that my husband and I welcomed the little man into our home for a week’s stay.

 

With all the advanced technology and gadgets, I often wonder how I ever raised my children to adulthood.  One of those “advancements” is the baby monitor.  Of course, when my parents were raising us kids, they just had to stick pretty close and peek in on us every now then.  But by the time my children arrived, Fisher Price had come out with a baby monitor that allowed us to listen in on our little ones.  They obviously did a good job on that particular product as it still works some 30 years later.  Of course, I have to set the volume dial just right and even then give it a little tap on the table to get rid of the static.  But I was quite excited to pull it out when Jude was born and get it ready for his first visit – and then I learned there was a newer version and model out now: a VIDEO baby monitor.  Not only could we hear the little fellow if he made a peep, we could also see him – even in a dark room at night! 

 

So when mommy and daddy were packing Jude’s little Elmo suitcase to visit his G-Nan and Geezer, I requested they include his monitor.  I unpacked it, removed a picture from from the wall and replaced it with the small camera.

 

And morning after morning, I’d find myself holding the monitor in my hands just looking at him.  Sometimes he would be sleeping; other times he would be awake.  I watched him play.  I watched him read. 

 

I watched him bounce back and forth and from side to side. 

 

I watched him lay down and suck his thumb.  I watched him clap his hands with glee. 

 

I watched him throw his Murphy and Fred out of the bed ...

 

... and then just look at them as if he was thinking, “Now what do I do?” 

 

I watched him.  And the longer I did, the more my heart swelled for that precious child until I could bear it no longer.  I couldn’t just WATCH, I had to go and pick up the little fellow and love on him. 

 

But one particular morning as I sat there holding the monitor, just delighting in watching him, a strange sensation came over me.  I realized that God watches me.  And that His heart swells, too -- not because of my behavior or anything I do, but simply because He’s God and I'm His child and He sees through the eyes of love.  

 

And the same is true for you.

 

The Lord looks down from heaven and sees …  Psalm 33:14

 

Just an ordinary moment...

 

 

Toddler Teeth Marks

I see the pink votive before me on my small "altar" here in my garden-enclosed -- and I smile.  It bears the teeth marks of one precious little toddler.  Thus I journal: Oh, how I love that child.  My heart comes undone once again and my insides turn to liquid.  I long for him ... to hold him close.

 

Then as quietly and softly as the first rays begin to peak over the horizon to separate the morning from the night, I hear the Father whisper: I understand.  Such it is with Me towards you, My child.

 

Just an ordinary moment...

How to Pray for a Grandson

Long before owls were so popular and the image found on anything from notepads to wrapping paper, my daughter-in-love was given this particular bird as a prophetic word.  And it had everything to do with having a baby.  Thus, “Little Hoot” was conceived and born, quite literally.

It should be of no surprise then that when my husband and I attended the Birds of Prey show at Callaway Gardens a few weeks ago that I was truly excited to learn that the featured bird was the owl.  Preliminary reading had already told me that all raptors have three distinguishing characteristics. 

1)      They all have sharp talons

2)      Their beaks are curved and pointed

3)      They are carnivorous

But of the birds of prey, the owls have three characteristics that set them apart from all the other raptors.

1)      Their keen eyesight

2)      Their acute sense of hearing

3)      Their silent flight

Probably the most striking of all his features is his eyes.  It’s what gives him his “wise” appearance.  They are large and forward facing and may account to up to five percent of the creature’s body weight.  If you or I had the same eye to head proportions that owls have, our eyes would be as big as grapefruits!  And because of the excess rod cells in his retina, he can literally see in the dark.  In fact, all an owl needs to see at night is the light from two stars.  And see he does: ten times greater than you or I, with great telescopic vision.  However, unlike human eyes, the owl’s eyes are stationary, therefore he cannot "roll" or move his eyes – in other words, he can only look straight ahead!  To compensate for this, owls are able to turn their heads around approximately 270 degrees, or about three quarters in each direction, giving the appearance that they can turn their heads all the way around.   

But next to their keen eyesight is their tremendous sense of hearing.  The eyes are in the middle of a disk of feathers, which are highly specialized sound conductors. The owl can flex these facial disks, channeling sound waves to the ears to catch even the faintest of sounds.  On top of that, an owl’s ears are asymmetrically placed.  That is, the right external ear canal may be a different shape than the left external ear canal and each could be located higher or lower on the side of the head. The naturalist giving the show suggested we take two empty toilet paper rolls, place each to an ear and point them in different directions.  (I suggest doing this at night when the neighbors have all gone to bed.)  This design enhances hearing depth perception. 

And lastly, the owl’s ability for silent flight sets it apart from all other birds of prey.  Two different feathers were passed around at the demonstration that afternoon.  One was a hawk’s; the other an owl’s.  No doubt the intricate feather structure of the leading edge of the owl’s wings enables him to fly noiselessly.  As air passes over the feathers, the sound wave is minimized and the sound level of the flapping is reduced to almost nothing.  What a great advantage to approaching its prey.  No wonder the great horned owl is called the “tiger of the air”!

So what does all this have to do with praying for my grandson? 

Everything.  Absolutely everything!

That's why, when I heard of the solid trust you have in the Master Jesus and your outpouring of love to all the followers of Jesus, I couldn't stop thanking God for you—every time I prayed, I'd think of you and give thanks. But I do more than thank. I ask—ask the God of our Master, Jesus Christ, the God of glory—to make you intelligent and discerning in knowing him personally, your eyes focused and clear, so that you can see exactly what it is he is calling you to do, grasp the immensity of this glorious way of life he has for his followers, oh, the utter extravagance of his work in us who trust him—endless energy, boundless strength!

Ephesians 1:15-19

Just an ordinary moment…