I spent a lot of time with my grandparents. My dad was an only child. My two sisters and I were the only grandchildren my grandparents had. We never doubted their love for us or our importance to them. From the time we were babies and sat on the porch swing until their last days on earth, we were with them as often as any of us could arrange. They had profound influence on all three of us. Several of our children were fortunate enough to have known them, too.
Last night my grandbaby spent the night. At bedtime, when she went in to brush her teeth. When she was done, she came to me and said "there is a big surprise for you in your bathroom." She had put toothpaste (her kind) on my toothbrush for me. She was thrilled with this little kindness bestowed upon a grandmother she hoped would be likewise thrilled. And I was. I was because my grandmother appreciated the tiniest thing we did for her and let us know. Before we turned the lights out, my husband knelt at the foot of our bed with our granddaughter and prayed with her. It brought tears to my eyes. He prays with her every time she spends the night with us. He has prayed with her since before she could form the words to pray along. But because I was working on this blog post and a couple of others about my own paternal grandparents, the sight on them kneeling over my hope chest at the foot of the bed moved me to tears. The sound of their voices together seeking safety and blessing upon our family evoked memories of my grandfather and his prayers for us.
Blessed. That is the only way I can describe the influence of my precious grandparents. Blessing. It is the word I used to describe what I want to be to my grandchild.
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