There are way too many cliches about grandbabies. People say that they are the best thing since sliced bread. They are so wonderful, we should have had them first. They are sinless, precious creatures, never meaning to do anything wrong. They are fun -- you don't have to be responsible but they're still yours. They always look like OUR side of the family. Their poop does not stink.
I'm afraid I have to tell you....it's all true.
The weirdest thing about grandbabies is that you look at them and realize that they really are part of you. And your husband. And your daughter-in-love's Mama and Daddy. And the great grandparents (all gozillion of them). It's this DNA strand, going back to Noah and the ark...and then back to Adam and Eve. But in this moment, this life, this baby is our flesh and blood. A miracle, derived from the results of many decisions, passions and the providence of God. If even one of those things were changed, this particular baby would not have been here. Even if the time of day or month changed, this baby would not have been here. One bullet in a centuries-long-ago war could have changed the fact of this baby's existence. God's mysteries puzzle and amaze me. He put this soul here, by the vortex of His hand.
We see a single life and wonder what it is worth. We measure money, fame, influence, abilities, stature.... but we have no clue what the measure of any life is really worth. It is a tapestry, with confusing and twisted threads all bunched up on the one side.....but an amazing picture on the other.
I look into the sweet bunny eyes of my two granddaughters. They have not yet spoken words. They cry a lot, eat a lot, poop a lot..... but in those eyes there are souls, not just babies. They are intricately and delicately made, mysteriously spun from two original strands of DNA, one from Daddy and one from Mama....passed down from the beginning of humanity.
It is a sacred trust. May that be a challenge and a promise to cherish and uphold the fragile gift of life.
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