Category Archives: Grandparenting

Fountain of Youth

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By now I’m used to goodbyes. When children grow into adults and move away, parents are waving them off continually. Today was a waving day as Hans, Katy, Nicholas, Evelyn and Thomas boarded an American Airlines jet for England. They were anxious to get home, and the rest of us are ready to get back to work and study.

With three car seats, a double stroller, five massive bags, unnumbered carry-ons and eight people, we needed two vehicles to get to the airport. Part of that was three drivers, two to circle while the third assisted Hans and Katy through check-in. The babies slept through the two hour ride, waking as if cued by an alarm as we pulled up to the airport curb.

 

Watching them roll/push/haul toward the big double doors, two babies in the stroller and one strapped to Hans’ back, I marveled at their efficiency in getting to this point without a glitch. Katy was so well organized this morning we had time for a cup of tea as we waited for the appointed moment to step out the door.

I’m thankful to God for these children and grandchildren, each one custom-designed by the Creator to accomplish the divine purposes for which they were born. I’m the privileged bystander, looking on and lending a hand along the way. Spending time with them is of great delight in the autumn of my life.

But there’s one chronic stress in our situation. All of my grandchildren live far from me. That means it’s double-or-nothing when we’re together. Either they have to move in with me or I with them, which can put a strain on young and old alike.

One friend told me that after she stayed in her daughter’s home with her two grands, back home she needed a week’s recuperation for each week spent with them. Last time she visited for three weeks so it was another three before she felt ready to put anything on her at-home calendar. I chuckled when she said that, but I didn’t have grandchildren then.

Now I do, and I understand.

As we stepped back in the door at home tonight, the first thing I did was pause at the baby toy bin sitting ready for a lift back to the basement. With a twang of sadness I wondered when my grandbabies would next handle those toys. Maybe so much time will pass before they return, they’ll have grown beyond them and the answer is “never”.

The second thing I did was sit down to think about that, and before I knew it, my head was hanging, and I was asleep.

Let’s see. The kids were here for five weeks. That means I’ll be back to normal by the end of February…. except that I’ll be staying with my Florida grandchildren to celebrate Micah’s first birthday well before then.

Maybe instead of counting weeks, I should just acquiesce to Mom’s point of view: “Spend as much time as you can with children; it’ll add decades to your life.”

 “The love of the Lord remains forever with those who fear him. His salvation extends to the children’s children.” (Psalm 103:17)

Smiling through a Funeral

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Tears and crying are part and parcel of most wakes and funerals. That’s logical. But I’m learning that the funerals of people who have lived their lives well include hearty laughter and many smiles, too.

Today John Welch had such a funeral. Although his grandchildren, most in their twenties, had difficulty talking about their grandpa without crying, they also found themselves joking through their tears. Grandpa’s death caused sadness only because he was such a powerful presence in their lives, which was a good reason to smile.

The pastor turned to these “kids”, nearly twenty of them, and said, “I hope you realize how fortunate you all are, to have had a grandfather like yours, a man who prayed for you every day and told you he loved you every time he talked with you.” When the magnitude of blessing is that great, a funeral brings joy to its mourners along with their tears.

Those of us who attend such a funeral as secondary mourners, i. e. not part of the deceased’s family, find ourselves taking our cue from the primary mourners. We gain courage from their smiles and enjoy conversation with them and other dear friends we’ve not seen in years. Funerals are important events, and caring people gain courage from grieving together.

Something else positive happens at the funeral of a person who finished strong. We in the audience leave the event with a fresh resolve to live better ourselves, because the one being celebrated did so well. John Welch’s relatives described this man as one who prayed volumes, found good in everyone and steadily grew in his faith. After hearing this, I want to do the same.

Several speakers mentioned John’s attitude of humble servanthood and his gift of helps saying, “No job was beneath him.” As I listened, I asked myself if that was true of me. Was I willing to step into any set of circumstances where there was need? All I could see was massive room for improvement.

Joy and sorrow are closely linked. The old expression, “I might as well laugh or I’ll cry,” has a world of truth in it. Although John Welch had reasons to cry during his life such as having to bury both of his beloved wives, he practiced his hearty laugh on a daily basis and encouraged others to focus on the good in their lives.

He consistently testified that the only reliable source of true joy was his relationship with Christ. And because of this, he could laugh with gusto at his own troubles, and we could smile throughout his funeral.

“Even in laughter the heart may ache.” (Proverbs 14:13a)

Heaven on Earth

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My Widow Warriors warned me it might be difficult to see Nate’s name on pieces of mail or worse yet, to bump into his handwriting by surprise. Because the mail still includes his name almost daily, that part hasn’t been hard. Today, though, I was flipping pages in an old journal, and suddenly there was his distinctive handwriting on a Post-It note.

I’d stapled a couple of grandbaby photos into my journal just after grandchild #2, Nicholas, had been born. Unbeknownst to me, Nate had added his own comment, which I hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t anything earthshaking, but being unexpected, it gave me a jolt. But contrary to what my friends had told me, seeing his writing warmed me inside, reminding me of the everyday relationship we once had.

His note said, “Dearest – We certainly have beautiful grandchildren! The Lord has blessed us. Love, Nate.”

These journal pages were from January, 2009, well before cancer. Nate’s Post-It was written during the height of tension over the non-sale of our house and our uncertain future. He was suffering through sleepless nights of worry, and in the midst of all that turmoil, God had sent a new baby.

Little Nicholas Nyman was the first Nyman in the new generation, and for a few days, his presence (and that of 5 month old Skylar) overruled the never-ending angst in other life categories. Nicholas’ birth date was particularly meaningful since Mary’s daughter, Johanna, gave birth on the same day. Hans and Jo, the same age, were “partner cousins,” growing up together and remaining fast friends to this day.

None of us had expected their babies to arrive simultaneously since the due dates were nearly a month apart. But Jo delivered late, and Katy delivered early, cousins having cousins. We called them our cross-Atlantic twins, since Nicholas was born in England. Because we missed much of his babyhood, we enjoyed looking at Jo’s little Ruby (living locally) and pictured Nicholas, mirrored in her size and development.

Nate appreciated the two grandchildren he’d met and the three he knew would arrive after he departed. Although he wasn’t a natural with babies, once we had our own, he participated 100%, changing as many diapers as I did and pacing just as many miles with a baby on his shoulder.

Before we had grandchildren he often said, “Once you get a grandchild, it’ll be heaven on earth for you.” He knew babies would bring abundant delight, and he got satisfaction just thinking about me being a grandma. As he contemplated his own death, surely it crossed his mind how brief his relationship was with the two grandchildren we had and how non-existent with the three that were on the way.

Yet even as he must have felt sad to be leaving them, I believe he was comforted to know these five little people would be bright spots in my world after he was gone. He was, I’m sure, hoping his absence wouldn’t be as difficult for me because of their presence.

How curious that I’m experiencing “heaven on earth” with five babies… and Nate is experiencing “heaven in heaven.” As much fun as I’m having, he’s probably having even more!

“Grandchildren are the crowning glory of the aged.” (Proverbs 17:6)