grandparents

“… I call to remembrance the unfeigned faith …which dwelt first in thy grandmother Lois….” -2Tim1:5

My wife and I have totally different perspectives on grandparents. My experience was threadbare at the best, disappointing at the worst. By the time I was of age to take in and remember, only two grandparents were left; a grandfather on my mom’s side and a grandmother on my dad’s side. Grandpa was a rather reclusive figure who loved to fish but never took us fishing, who retired to a little farm I never remember visiting, and who was an artist and musician who never shared his gifts with us. My grandmother came to live with us not long after I started school. She was cold and distant, a bit grumpy, and soon beset by delusions of a relived childhood. We knew her presence only from the weight of her restrictive presence upon the family as mom labored hard to care for her and retain a victorious spirit in doing so. I did not realize, at the time, that anything was amiss in all this family dynamic. My brother and I simply did not know anything else. But there was an elderly couple that are favorably remembered. Thea and Jake were childless and quite old but were still fun to visit. There were treats such as milk and cookies, some stray candy, robust jokes, and even doting comments now and then. Somehow it was not robbery to have to steal moments from our play time to visit them. Their home was a warm and inviting place, and we did not resent being dropped off there for a few hours when mom and dad were out of pocket. Today, I have no idea who they were or how they entered our lives, but their names still evoke good memories as my brother and I had come to know that we were the gleam in someone else’s eyes.

My wife, on the other hand, knew her grandparents well for they were all the home she knew for the first 4 years of her life. That home became her emotional and spiritual anchor as they were her refuge amidst a storm of dysfunctional parenting. She learned a love for fresh cornbread, wilted (or “kill’t”) lettuce, the smell of fresh, plucked feathers off a chicken that grandma had just killed with a deft twist of the neck, knitting on the backyard swing, ever fascinating stories of deeds and kin long past, sitting together on the front porch rocking chair during a rainstorm, plucking and eating raw green beans out of the garden, and a hundred other endearing facets of simple, southern living. But most of all, she remembers being the apple of their eye; simply adored and treasured. Whether it was the words they spoke to her or the proud bearing in front of others, she knew the love that was there, that it was strong and real. She is still a sucker for a gentle rubbing of her hands, just like grandma used to do. Those grandparents were simple country folk but possessed a fountain of folklore, colorful expressions, and were lovers of Jesus that left behind a rich, rich tapestry of memories; enough to fill a book. They left such an indelible mark on her that she credits them with actually saving her from a life of bad choices.

Being a grandparent now gives me the opportunity to leave behind a treasury of memories. I have a unique role to play in this pageantry of life, and I hope I can do the part justice. I have opportunities to enrich the lives of my little ones in a way that only I can do. Moms and dads do their part, but who but I can play the special games the kids have never seen before, who can make the bottom of their piggy bank ring with unexpected and unmerited favor, and who but I can share a ride down the hill in the Nordmobile? It is that little bit of frosting on top of their cake which makes life sweet and memorable. Grandmas and grandpas can be such a blessing. If you have them, encourage them, treasure them. If you don’t, go adopt some. There are still plenty of Thea and Jakes out there for the taking.

conflicts and fears

“…Conflicts without, fears within.” -2 Cor. 7:5 NASV

How do you know if you are alive? Besides the obvious, Paul gives a succinct and honest clue as he opened his heart wide to the Corinthians in a very transparent moment. He summed up his present existence with four words, “Conflicts without, fears within.” That little phrase captures so much of human reality. Sounds like life to me. Hopefully your conflicts don’t assume the proportions that Paul experienced as he was chased around the Mediterranean by stone throwing mobs and other unhappy customers. Yet, who among us does not feel the daily tension of conflicting priorities, the demands of our many jobs, and the feedback of differing opinions? And fears? My anxiety closet is never empty. There lurks a thousand assorted beasts of every sort that love to go bump in the night and rattle their chains to let me know they are still there.

If there is some bliss in early childhood, it is the minimal presence of either of these two commodities to any intense degree. There are many childhood tears, but they fade fast and memories heal with amazing speed. Yet, all so soon, children, too, will feel the pinch of daily tensions as they begin to experience life that doesn’t always agree with their preconceptions and self-centered wishes. And fears start to grow like June weeds in the fertile plots of young imaginations.

School presents a liberal dose of both conflicts and fears. Students are roused from their summer doldrums and challenged to do battle with multiplication and algebraic functions, gerunds and participial phrases, Napoleon and the dissolution of European kingdoms, phylums and taxonomic ranks, and all that good stuff. Some take the conflict in stride. Others get snowed under. For all of them, it is work, nevertheless. And then there is that class/peer thing. Others are watching, listening, and always eager to pounce on any excuse for a good laugh. Laughter is so delicious, so wonderful, except when it comes at our expense. Life would be so much simpler if it were not for those “others” who include or exclude, applaud or jeer, appreciate or diminish, love or ignore. Adding to any child’s list of fears are those overheard conversations that echo up hallways in the most sacrosanct refuge for a child, the home. Children can sense when adults are worried, have their moods, or are wrapped up in fears of their own which spill out at times like a glass of overturned milk.

I guess what I am trying to say is that kids are human, too, experiencing conflicts and fears in full measure. Paul rejoices that God comforted him by the coming of Titus who was himself encouraged by the Corinthians. We, as parents, are Titus to our children bringing good news with a personal touch that gladdens the heart. If the Apostle Paul needed a piece of good news and a friendly face in order to bear his trials, how much more our children need this as well. And as the Corinthians encouraged Titus, so we grandparents need to encourage our grown children laboring through the child rearing years. Letters are great and Paul used them to maximum advantage, but the personal presence of Titus did something for Paul that nothing else could match.

In looking back, I ask myself now, “Did I hug my kids enough, or extend a gentle touch (that powerful but under-rated human connection that says so much yet is totally wordless)? Did I pull apart from my own worries and preoccupations enough and invite myself into the quiet rooms of their inner worlds; and once there, offer a listening ear interspersed with words of truth and encouragement?” Paul did not shrink from using emotive words like “beloved” in addressing the Corinthians. Did I tell my kids that they were my beloved and precious ones? Paul corrected his children but then rejoiced when they corrected their course. “Great is my boasting on your behalf” and words to that effect. Did I boast enough of their good choices and let them know it? I wish I could remember more clearly doing so. May you remember unmistakably and have no doubts or regrets.