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News of our fourth grandchild was not even close to humdrum. The first three were sensational additions to our lives. Were we so used to the experience that number four would be a “been-there-done-that” routine?
We greeted the news with ecstasy! After all, in the birth order dynamic, I hold the number three spot in my family and number four meant that I was not the family baby. It was a chance to be a cheer leader for another special life.
My enthusiasm was tempered quickly because Covid-19 has prevented that little life from being carefully placed in my arms. I know that I will warm to the life of this little one. Every one of the wiggly movements will make me smile.
My mind will archive every feeling: he will be so fragile, vulnerable, and tiny. I will be careful not to squeeze too hard or lose my grip. Dropping this precious package will be caution number one.
Eventually, the face of this angel will contort. Something will make him unhappy. Purring turn to fussing. Mentally prepared I will try not to be hurt at the rejection.
Arms will start flailing and legs will be kicking. Eyebrows will raise and his heart rate will increase. The former will be his, the latter will be me.
Gently, I will hand that precious life back to his mommy or daddy. I won’t show my disappointment to give him up so quickly. But, over time, those cuddle moments will be longer and longer. That is my grandfather hope and joy.
Work days fill my calendar for most of the year. Long 10-12 hour days define my work week. When the work week has surpassed reasonable tally, more time is poured into writing, studying, preparing for weekend ventures that support my work.
I am one of those few who loves what I do for a living. That old adage, “Find something that you love to do and you will never work a day in your life,” applies to me. I love going to work.
But, there is something that gnaws on my soul. I, along with my wonderful wife, sigh often when we are getting ready to leave church and head back home. There are many around us who weekly gather their brood and head out for a family lunch.
We watch them laugh together, hug one another, tease each other, and agree to rendezvous for a shared meal. Sometimes, not often, they wave to us as they leave. We toss them a polite wave and nod our heads. Our smile is envious.
Can you feel the longing that we feel so deeply? We miss our family. But, the Good Lord has given me an assignment far away from our children and grandchildren.
Every chance we get, we sock away a few dollars here and there. We look long into our calendar and plan our next vacation to travel to meet them thousands of miles away. The bank savings account grows slowly but steadily so we can enjoy meals, gifts, and treats together.
Christmas is a great time to gather. The tiring air flight is worth the weariness and very-early-fisherman style wake-up time to catch the plane. Early departure tickets are less expensive.
What else will get us up at 3AM to load luggage and make the hour-long drive to the airport? Waves of sleepiness waft over my consciousness. One helpful reward: the notorious Houston traffic is very light that early in the morning.
Air travel does not rank any where in sight of my favorite things to do. Sore from sitting too long, cramped aggravating conditions, and the nerve-wracking sneezing, coughing, and wheezing in recycling air sends chills up and down my spine can be held at bay as long as I concentrate on the embraces that are soon to come.
All is forgotten when squealing grandchildren call out our names. Enthusiastic hugs are welcomed to linger long. Words of love, affection, and delight soothe my mind. Family!
The kitchen by no means favors me in its room to ply my culinary art. My skills are definitely in the limited category: primarily survival food. Now, on occasion I can read the directions, follow them, and proudly present the final product. Thank God that His providence functions efficaciously and directs it to be edible!
When the grandkids were en route for a long stay, a menu popped into my mind. It included sweet desserts. One was “Rice Krispie” treats.
They always look inviting. Taste is a big win. Of course there is the sticky gooey fun of eating them.
On a recipe skill level, this dessert treat is EASY. Measure this, melt this, stir this, press it down, add fun sprinkles and let it cool. By the time our grandkids roared through the front door, it was waiting to welcome them.
Our oldest grandchild buzzed over to the colorful tray with a smile as wide as the Gulf of Mexico.
“May I have some?” he questioned with the politeness that made me want to hand over the entire tray.
“You better ask your parents first,” was my safe Grandfatherly response.
“Daddy?” he looked with a longing hope.
“Sure. Which piece to you want?” his father asked.
Since a picture is worth a thousand words, the second photo shows the results of his request. It was the deepest part of the tray. He knew where to drop his line for the biggest fish in the lake.
I laughed. He smiled. His munching away was off-the-charts cute!
photographs by brucefong photography
My grandkids stopped in for a long visit. They are little tykes, just 6,4, and 2. Anything that Grandpa does that is just a wee bit funny, starts them giggling.
When they arrived, they ran into my arms for a long hug. Of course they took to their age and all talked at once. My Grandfatherly skills kicked in and I agreed to everything they were all saying.
If I had to I could deny everything and blame my bad memory or horrible hearing. Don’t worry, I would fulfill all my promises as they reminded me of each guarantee that we had discussed. In the meantime, their memory was worse than mine.
They each scampered around the house. This was their first time to our home. It was an endless array of new rooms, fascinating decorations, new toys, tons of niches waiting for the imagination of children.
I warned them that I had a helper upstairs. He was a friendly plumber making sure everything with water was functioning well for our very loved guests. “Be on your best behavior,” I urged them, “You don’t want to scare him.”
“Where is he?” they forced a calm on their faces and into their voices.”
“Oh, he’s upstairs. I believe I hear him in the bathroom that y’all are using during your visit. If you want, go on upstairs and say ‘Hello.'”
They scurried upstairs and I waited for the discovery. “Oh, Goong Goong! You’re funny!”
That’s the best reaction to a simple welcome for three lives that I love beyond words. Giving them a moment of levity after days of driving half way across the country to visit was special. Hearing these little lives laugh is more than a sound. It is the reverberation of the soul.
photograph by brucefong photography
Our flight to see our loved ones took the whole day with a stop along the way. But, the anticipation was just too exciting to worry about the weariness of travel. We talked about some of our great memories from past visits. Now, we looked forward to making more.
When our plane touched down, we caught each other beaming with delight. Soon we would cuddle little lives in big grandparent hugs, shower these little ones with love and drink in endless moments of laughter. The rendezvous with our kids vehicle went smoothly but our warm hugs were limited to our son-in-law. Grandchild #1 was sound asleep in his car seat.
Grandparents are not easily disappointed. Instead of raucous hugs, laughs and presents we just gazed at the face of a sleeping angel all the way home. When peepers finally popped open, smiles erupted and the long anticipated hugs flooded the afternoon.
Gifts of toys, new clothes, treats and fun little knickknacks filled our day. Unbounded gratitude from these little lives warmed our hearts. Isn’t it amazing how so much love is generated and shared when so little grown up conversations have been exchanged?
Hugs from these little ones are fabulous. The warmth and unconditional affection melt the well protected hearts of adults who have shielded so much after so much of life has been hard and tough. God has a way of rewarding the perseverance of lives lived in complete devotion to Him.
Soon we were taken by our hands and followed running little feet and our granddaughter was engulfed into the reunion. Celebration took another half step higher. Oh, yeah, our daughter was there too!
Happy Thanksgiving to one and ALL!
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Anticipation grabs the human soul like no other electrifying experience. So, I played it cool when we boarded the plane in anticipation of spending time with our first granddaughter, our second grandchild. Everyone took their turn while I gave my attention to my I-phone.
Eventually, just as I suspected, someone asked, “Do you want to hold her?” I looked up surprised and acting detached and other-worldly occupied, “What? Oh, sure.”
This little life was carefully handed over to me. She was so tiny. The warmth of her little body felt good in my arms.
With attention I cradled her in the crook of my arm and caught her in the palm of my left hand. There was no weight to this little package. It wasn’t long before I melted into her world.
Her soft breathing made me sigh with joy. Carefully I took her little hand in between my finger and thumb. The tender skin, perfectly formed appendage broadened my smile.
It was natural to rock the newest member of our family. Gently I hugged her. Then I kissed her.
Babies smell so good. They wiggle in grasp of their grandfather. Surely, they love the comfort of protection, affection and admiration of their favorite relative. It is instinctive.
In this small world between granddaughter and grandfather, the other people around us faded away. Now, for all time a bond was forming that would be everlasting. Nothing could break was being established at this moment.
I was falling in love with another human being with whom I have not yet had a single intelligible conversation. Nevertheless, no one would dispute its reality or its beauty.
There is nothing comparative about a Grandfather’s love for his grandchildren. Love is never about such small distractions of others. Instead, Grandfathering is only about concentration on the blessings in the arms at the time.
Favorites are not allowed when love is completely pure, unselfish, giving and overwhelming. We who wear the badge of Grandfather can’t be bothered with attention hived off to total strangers. Love is fully devoted to a the little life at hand.
That’s what the touch of a granddaughter will do. It melts the strongest of men, the most accomplished of me into a bowl of gelatin ready to be molded into whatever this little life desires. That’s why God created little ones with little fingers; just the right place to wrap Grandpa around.
photo credit: KJB photography
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