Greater Purposes

They are piled around us like a litter of puppies. We have ten grandchildren with us this week (along with their parents) -- missing two of the grands who are with their folks at home. They are all aged 11 and below, full of energy and spice and nerve. The cousin love is palpable, with plenty of laughter and healthy competition. There's nothing like cousins...they're related, so they're permanently connected. 

People have always raved about the awesomeness of grandchildren. But until I experienced them for myself, I didn't understand the joy of them. I remember my own grandmothers. They were as opposite as two people could be, but both of them had this unconditional love for me that translated to my heart, even when I didn't see them often. That is what any grandparent can give to their progeny. We're not having to raise any of ours...I cannot imagine how difficult that must be. My get-up-and-go has done gone-up-and-went and we were lucky to have had our children young.

For decades, the message to young people has been to get educated, get your career in place and then play the field until you find just the right person. Take a few years to make money and travel and enjoy yourselves. Then think about having a baby, and never more than one or two. Overpopulation and all, you see? This was the preaching I got from society when I was young, but not from my parents. They had three and then regretted not having more (when it was too late to do so). We had happy, healthy childhoods, with very little money. One income, plenty of outside play, robust work and talk. When people say that it's impossible to live on one income, they might be talking about the importance of the magic of going to Disney as a child. Our magic was our Dad throwing us the softball, taking us fishing down the road at a local creek; Mama making simple but nourishing meals, Mama being home when the bus let us out; Daddy teaching us to help him mow, till a garden. Our vacations consisted of driving to Illinois to visit Grandma and the Yankee relatives, eating bagged lunches on the way there. Summers were long, hot, glorious.  The library was free, but supplied us with all the imaginative worlds we needed. 

Yes, I rhapsodize about the good old days, but realize that these are the good old days too. Trying to not miss a minute of the glory (and agony) of all that is in front of me. Everything takes longer, hurts more and feels more like mountain climbing than it should. I am convinced that half our problem is that we quit using our "parts" and they rust on up. Some people, wonderful ones that I can't relate to, stay the course and never quit all the moving, so they seem younger, longer. As for me, I have a terrible problem of being all-or-nothing, as well as easily distracted. So the rust builds up and I'm again "mountain climbing" when it's really just a stroll down the lane. I alternate between all-in and all-out. This is not a good plan, but it is my reality. 

Meanwhile, the grandchildren. How I love them, with their clear, sweet eyes and easy laughter. I see the miracle of DNA, how they reflect parts of both their parents, beautiful people that I also love. All from two sections of the helixed amalgam of one egg and one sperm that God picked out special to make that single person, that single month, that particular day. I worry about them, all twelve and also the one that is still in her Mama's womb. I pray for them, their particular bents, their particular gifts and flaws. The world is a scary place and getting scarier by the year. I could be overwhelmed by the thought of their futures and what they might have to face. But then God comforts me with the knowledge that not a sparrow escapes His notice, and that they were born "for such a time as this." No fear...