GOD, GRANDCHILDREN, AND ROCKING CHAIRS! ~ That pretty much expresses
our priorities as we get a wee bit older. The blog below came in an
e-mail today from Dr. Bill Mounce and BiblicalTraining - and it took me
back over a quarter of a century to 1994, when our first grandchild,
Elyssa, was born.
My photo composite below shows her at age 5 when she was in Kindergarten. Lolo Fausto is holding newborn brother, Kobe, and Lolo Bill is holding Elyssa, while Lola Dory's smile shows her joy of seeing our granddaughter in a good Christian school.
My mother never got a chance to see her great-granddaughter, for she passed into glory four months earlier. But I know the joy this would have brought her.
And over the years it has been a joy seeing Elyssa educated in the Christ-based K-12 Linfield Christian School, then on to Westmont College - both Christian institutions begun in 1937 through the benevolence of a Christian donor. Elyssa's siblings are following similar paths as they all grow into Christian young adults - leaving we white haired grandparents with only those memories to warm our hearts.
In the blog below, Dr. Bill Mounce tells of his unsettled feeling when he and his family were not getting the vacation home in which they had been comfortable for the previous five years. I can relate to that. In the mid-1980s, I worked for Ferranti International and lived in a Sheraton Hotel in Houston for five months. Always the same room, 1103 top floor, except for one night.
One Sunday evening I returned after spending a week at home - and someone else was in my room 1103, and I had to take another room. The new room was a mirror image of 1103 - so instead of turning left to take a shower, I now had to turn right. Everything was just the opposite - and I was very uncomfortable.
The next morning I went to the front desk, and on my hands and knees pleaded for my room, okay not so dramatic - but I did asked to be put back into the room that had been my home all these months. Yes, I can relate to Bill Mounce's discomfort in a different vacation home.
This blog stirred so many wonderful memories. When Elyssa was a toddler Dory and I babysat her during the day. And for some reason we have never understood, for about a month when I would pick her up, she would start crying. Anyone else could hold her with no problem, except for Papa Bill. Dory laughed and told me, "Your skin is too white!" As I said, we never really knew why she cried, but after about a month - everything was fine.
One thing which made me laugh when I was holding her as a baby, she was fascinated by the hair on my arm - always plucking at it. I do not have ape man hair, only that from my English/Irish heritage, but her dad, being Filipino, does not have body hair. So I was a novelty to her.
I believe I share similar feeling as all grandparents, that desire to always keep them young and cuddly, falling asleep in our arms. But that was not God's plan. They must grow, from that all-trusting child into responsible young adults, prayerfully staying close to their Christian values.
Those are some of the deja vu memories the blog "God, Grandchildren, and Rocking Chairs" brought to the surface today.
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God, Grandchildren, and Rocking Chairs
The
other night, my 18 month old granddaughter, Boston, had trouble sleeping.
Normally she cries for a few minutes and then falls asleep, but that
night her crying was intense and lasted a lot longer.
I eventually picked her up and we sat down in a rocking chair and I started singing songs. They happened to be the Greek songs I used to use to teach my students, and they had the desired effect. After two minutes, she relaxed, melted into my chest, and fell sound asleep.
It was an amazing experience that I haven't had since my children were young, and so I kept rocking and singing and enjoying her. She knew she was safe and loved, and that's all she needed.
As I kept singing, I thought about my relationship with the Lord. I know that someday I will be safe in his arms when I hear, "Well done, good and faithful servant." But I would love to feel that right now the same way that Boston feels it. And yet, there is something I can do right now that I wouldn't be able to do in heaven, and that is trust him.
I understand theologically that trust will still be part of our relationship with God in heaven, but it'll be trusting in something that we can see. The privilege I have right now is that I can trust in someone I can't see (Heb 1:11), knowing that just as Boston was safe in my arms, so also I am safe in his arms.
Here's a somewhat silly example. We are on vacation in Southern California right now with Tyler and family. We have a house that we have rented the past five years but the management committee made a mistake and we got stuck going to a different house. It's hard because the grandkids have memories of us in the other house.
I wish I had responded with trust, thanking the Lord that we had a place to go even though it was different. But when we got down here, it turns out they are doing a ton of construction around the old house and the noise would've been almost unbearable. When the mistake happened, I wish I trusted the Lord so much that I had simply said, "Thank you."
As parents, this is the kind of trust that we long for from our children. They can't possibly know all the variables in life, and when we do something they don't like or don't expect, we wish they would just trust us. How much more so our loving and powerful heavenly Father longs for us to trust him, no matter what. Because after all, we are safe in his arms, whether we feel it or not.
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God bless, have a wonderful, blessed day,
Bill
I eventually picked her up and we sat down in a rocking chair and I started singing songs. They happened to be the Greek songs I used to use to teach my students, and they had the desired effect. After two minutes, she relaxed, melted into my chest, and fell sound asleep.
It was an amazing experience that I haven't had since my children were young, and so I kept rocking and singing and enjoying her. She knew she was safe and loved, and that's all she needed.
As I kept singing, I thought about my relationship with the Lord. I know that someday I will be safe in his arms when I hear, "Well done, good and faithful servant." But I would love to feel that right now the same way that Boston feels it. And yet, there is something I can do right now that I wouldn't be able to do in heaven, and that is trust him.
I understand theologically that trust will still be part of our relationship with God in heaven, but it'll be trusting in something that we can see. The privilege I have right now is that I can trust in someone I can't see (Heb 1:11), knowing that just as Boston was safe in my arms, so also I am safe in his arms.
Here's a somewhat silly example. We are on vacation in Southern California right now with Tyler and family. We have a house that we have rented the past five years but the management committee made a mistake and we got stuck going to a different house. It's hard because the grandkids have memories of us in the other house.
I wish I had responded with trust, thanking the Lord that we had a place to go even though it was different. But when we got down here, it turns out they are doing a ton of construction around the old house and the noise would've been almost unbearable. When the mistake happened, I wish I trusted the Lord so much that I had simply said, "Thank you."
As parents, this is the kind of trust that we long for from our children. They can't possibly know all the variables in life, and when we do something they don't like or don't expect, we wish they would just trust us. How much more so our loving and powerful heavenly Father longs for us to trust him, no matter what. Because after all, we are safe in his arms, whether we feel it or not.
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God bless, have a wonderful, blessed day,
Bill
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