Two almost-sisters were blessed with new grandbabies last week. One is a cousin by marriage who has been family a long time The other is a life-long friend who calls me her “forever friend.”
I am so happy for both of them. There is nothing like holding a new baby in your arms, and when that baby is your very own grandchild, well you just have to experience it and you know what I mean.
I was blessed beyond measure to be at the birth of my first grandchild, a girl. Our one and only son and his beautiful wife lived close to us then, and her parents were driving from out of state to be here when she entered the hospital. So it was my great priviledge to be in the birthing room when that tiny little creature breathed her first and squalled like a baby.
It was one of the most amazing experiences of my life, Because birth itself is simply breathtaking. But when the son of my heart gives life to his own child, that is a mountain’s high peak.
My melancholy comes when I wish for and long for that grandgirl to be closer to my house. She, along with her two siblings (my other equally precious grandchildren), and her parents moved far away three years ago.
So when I get a Facebook message from that first grandgirl saying, “Dreamt that I arrived at your house after a long trip. I miss your face!!!!!”, I weep. I just can’t help it. Because I. Miss. Her. Face. So.Very. Much!
I know I’m not the only one. I have friends whose grandchildren live across country, and we often share our joys and heartaches at short bursts of togetherness and long stretches of being apart. We understand each other.
So I rejoice with those almost-sisters who have new babies to hold and snuggle. They will cherish these days. And I weep with those who wish their grands were right next door, like mine were for twelve years.
I thank God for those twelve wonderful years. I was given time to invest in relationships with three that are still precious and dear to this Grammy’s heart. Those years were a gift, an important and valuable gift that I don’t take for granted.
In my tears, I will remember the hugs, the smiles, the cups of hot cocoa, the snuggles with a thousand Disney movies, the tucking into bed, the reading of books, the telling of stories, the prayers. Ah, the prayers. They never stop. They go wherever the grandchild goes because that is my connection with her and with God.
And I trust God to hold her.