Many things in life are overrated, but becoming a grandparent isn’t one of them. What a delight to have little ones in my life as I’m growing old. When I had young children, I was too busy (and tired) to appreciate much of what was unfolding. Pausing back then to watch a child play or looking to see life as he saw it was an unaffordable luxury.

But it’s all different during grandmotherhood. In one sense I’m a bystander, able to take time to observe objectively, yet the opposite is also true. I can claim them as “my own grands” and get involved with them on that basis. I can enjoy their energy but still count on a night’s sleep without having to get up to feed the baby. As Mom said often, “If I’d known how much fun grandkids were, I’d have had them first.” I get what she meant.

The only down side to being a grandparent is the steep learning curve. For example, when I was keeping track of infant Micah and toddler Skylar for a while today, I couldn’t figure out how to unfold the new double stroller. Adam came home from work and demonstrated how easily it unfolded with one flick of a lever. “We’ll just leave it open,” he graciously said, parking it in the garage for tomorrow’s use.

Inside the house the grandma learning curve is just as steep. Child safety locks on all the lower cabinets are enough to split fingernails and stymie a fully functioning adult, although I watched year-old Skylar undo one of them with one hand.

When I loaded the dishwasher the other night and it wouldn’t work, I had to ask for help again. Linnea’s answer was interesting. “We flip the circuit breaker when we’re not using it, otherwise Skylar runs it through cycle after cycle.” Now, before doing the dishes, I head for the fuse box.

Working the TV remotes was another problem. Because Skylar works the buttons and switches of anything within reach, they’ve put the VCR and DVD players atop the highest shelf. The remotes don’t work unless pointed to the ceiling. At least it was a solution I understood.

Getting into the bathroom was tricky, too, when no one was inside and the door still wouldn’t open. The hook and eye latch above my head was the cause, and Skylar was the reason. There have been other locking issues for this grandma to learn, too, such as the flipped bedroom doorknob that locks on the hall side rather than from in the room. No surprise that Skylar is the reason for this one, too, as her parents try to keep her from dismantling the guest room. Of course if a guest accidentally turns the button before entering the room, she’ll have to use her cell phone to call for release.

I’ve learned to keep the pantry door locked (Skylar again), the front door bolted (Skylar) and the dog bowls out on the patio (yes, Skylar). All the bottom dresser drawers are empty to prevent them from being routinely emptied onto the floor, and everything must be pushed away from the edges of dresser tops, kitchen counters and bathroom vanity tops. Pudgy little hands have a determined reach.

I wholeheartedly agree that grandchildren are a supreme blessing, gifts from God. Just remember, poopy diapers go in one trash can and wet ones in another. And don’t tell anyone that once I get home, I’ll need a week to recuperate from my vacation with the grandchildren.

“The godly walk with integrity; blessed are their children who follow them.” (Proverbs 20:7)

When someone we love dies, our minds spend a great deal of time looking back. If we’ve been at the bedside as death arrived, we go over and over that sequence of events because of a driving need to do so.

Watching someone die is distressing and can’t be dismissed by a quick act of the will, and I’m not sure it would be a good idea to do so anyway, even if that were possible. Looking back for a while feels like honoring the loved one who has passed away, which in turn helps the one still living.

I’ve gone over the hours and minutes leading up to Nate’s death again and again, combing through the details. Something in me longs to dwell there for a while longer, knowing eventually my heart will leave for good, although my mind will always remember the facts, minus the sadness.

I find myself wanting to rearrange events and conversations like a chef wants to put a messy spice rack back in order. Of course I know rearranging the past is fantasy, but how do I swap looking back for moving forward?

Recent days seem more difficult than those immediately after Nate died, as if a scab covering a wound has been pulled off and the injury has to start healing all over again. Experts tell us the grieving process is moving along well when we stop reliving the last days and the death scene and instead replay good times we had together before the disease came. Although I felt I was doing well in the healing process, maybe I’m not.

Hospice has kept in touch with us since Nate’s passing and has offered emotional support throughout the first year. They’ve told us that the birth of Micah Nathan and the coming of the twins in England can be roadblocks to grieving at the same time they’re a cause for rejoicing. This might be especially true for the parents of these little ones, our daughter with Micah and our son fathering the twins.

Hospice warned that as we met and got to know Micah, we’d have some feel-bad moments. His middle name represents a relationship he’ll never know, which is another small hurdle for us to jump, even as we take pleasure in his significant name. Hospice suggests we save something of Nate’s to give to Micah, a tangible link between the two Nathans, not so much for Micah’s sake as for ours. They also suggested we write letters for the baby in an effort to give grandpa-info to him while it’s still fresh. This will simultaneously help our grief.

Skylar with Nate                                                                 Nicholas with Nate

Recently I had a dream that may have revealed where I am emotionally. I saw it like a movie of someone else, although I was in it. Nate and I were hugging, then stepped back to look at each other face to face while holding hands. We continued back-stepping, letting go, without making any effort to stop ourselves, yet neither of us seemed frustrated as the gap widened. Eventually we stepped back so far, we both dropped out of the scene completely.

It was a sad dream but a slice of life as it is. Nate is completely out of my sight, but I can somehow “see” him a little if I relive those last weeks. Eventually I’ll hop over them to the happy times before, a sign that grieving is almost at an end. God’s plan is to bring healing, not to extend hurt, and I eagerly look for his release.

“Though he brings grief, he also shows compassion because of the greatness of his unfailing love. For he does not enjoy hurting people or causing them sorrow.” (Lamentations 3:32-33)

While newborn Micah and his mommy Linnea worked hard at give and take (Linnea giving, Micah taking), Skylar and I had fun playing. Our major project was washing the Highlander, which still had salt on it from Chicago’s snowy streets. Here in Florida, everyone’s cars are clean.

Skylar began jumping up and down with glee when we pulled out the bucket, rags and soap. Better still was uncurling the hose and starting the water. You’d think we’d entered Disney World for the joy bubbling out of this little girl. As she washed the car, she squealed enthusiasm over the shiny lights, the silver letters, the pretty wheels and the bubbles everywhere.

Whoever said little kids have short attention spans hasn’t met Skylar. She focused on our work for over two hours at only 19 months old. Chattering the entire time, she hadn’t had enough even after washing the car, her red wagon, the basketballs, her own clothes and her beach chair. Jack did his level best to stay out of range, although she frequently swung the hose and slopped wet rags in his direction.

By the time the car was clean and dry, we were both dirty and wet, but Skylar wanted to start all over. “Bubbles? ‘Waller’? Car?”

Children are a delight. Skylar’s energy and enthusiasm for anything new is inspiring, and it makes me want to show her more and more, just to get her responses. Today she learned the color silver and was pointing out everything that qualified: earrings, hub caps, a piece of tin foil, a spoon. The world is opening up for her, and she’s learning at lightning speed. She believes everything we tell her and parrots it back to be sure she got it right. She loves to be with all of us, because she senses we truly love her.

I can see why Jesus related well to children and why they were drawn to him. They sensed his genuine interest in and acceptance of them, as they were. He loved them, and they knew it.

It’s impressive that Jesus shushed his friends when they tried to limit children’s access to him. Instead he welcomed them with open arms and gentle touches. He even told his followers, “How about being more like these little kids? You’d better, or you’ll never get into my kingdom.”

That sounds harsh, but I think Jesus was pointing out exactly what I saw in Skylar today. Honesty. Openness. Someone who trusts easily. Skylar believes fully and tries to follow instructions. She takes things at face value. She also expects the best of everyone, including herself as she tries and tries again to do things right. If she’d been in the crowd with Jesus that day, she would have been the first one on his lap. That’s precisely the kind of all-out commitment Jesus was (and is) looking for in his kingdom people.

“Jesus… was angry with his disciples. He said to them, ‘Let the children come to me. Don’t stop them! For the Kingdom of God belongs to those who are like these children. I tell you the truth, anyone who doesn’t receive the Kingdom of God like a child will never enter it.’ Then he took the children in his arms and placed his hands on their heads and blessed them.” (Mark 10:14-16)