Times Two

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Today it was time for a tearful goodbye. We all knew it was coming, but that didn’t make the moment easier. I  think the reason older people focus so much on heaven is that they’re just tired of saying goodbye. Once we get to paradise, separations will be only a dim memory.

Last night we brainstormed for a way I might stay longer. After all, it took a week to get over jet lag and climb the grandma learning curve on everything from how the British toilets flush to how the washing machine works. Staying a few more days could only be delicious “grannie-gravy.”

 

I’ve gotten used to living with little children again, and I know my withdrawal from them will be of greater stress than dealing with a second round of jet lag. Nicholas has his own special presence and is at one of my favorite ages. Being a one year old with plump, kissable cheeks and the optimism of discovery during every minute of every day is completely captivating. Interacting with him has been rich entertainment as he’s thrown himself into daily life with glee. His sweet personality and big brown eyes will be front-and-center in my mind for many days to come.

And our newborn twins, already turning into “regular babies,” have proved to be the proverbial double blessing, despite their roller coaster responses to our scheduling efforts. There were evidences of their presence in every corner of every room that made it seem like we were seeing double. The work load of one infant is doubled by two, and equipment-doubles abound as well. For grandmas, this is like playing dolls on steroids. To see and think in pairs is twice the fun.

 

When I get sad about having had to go, I do the only positive thing I know to do: count my blessings. And when I come to “new birth” on my mental list, I’m thankful to be able to add, “Times two!”

The whole truth of the matter, though, is that my blessings add up to two million times two. And I’d need longer than a cross-Atlantic flight-time to be able to number them all.

“The Almighty… blesses you with blessings of the heavens above, blessings of the deep that lies below, blessings of the breast and womb.” (Genesis 49:25)

 

As time goes by…

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Is it possible I’ve been in England at Hans and Katy’s house for 12 days already? That’s what the calendar says, but none of us believe it. Although we haven’t done much running around and have lived our days at home base, the hours have flown by, and it’s nearly time for me to climb back on a plane and head home.

 

While Hans has been at work, Katy and I have been consumed with the daily tending of their young flock. Nicholas cut another tooth this week, and we’ve celebrated Katy’s father’s birthday with a multi-course feast. Hans has explained his plan for their large vegetable garden and pointed out the herbs he’s already growing. We’ve pushed the triple stroller uphill and hiked along sheep pastures. I’ve marveled at watching Hans make a cream sauce that went over asparagus, which went over salmon. But mostly we’ve all participated in parenting and grandparenting, and that’s what I’ll miss most when it comes time to leave.

The last time I saw Nicholas was during the weeks of Nate’s illness and death. He was only ten months old, and when I saw him this time, he had no recollection of our relationship. Nearly seven months had gone by, during which he’d changed dramatically. How much more time will slip past us all before we can be together again? I try not to think about it. And of course the changes in Nicholas between now and then will be nothing compared with the changes in the twins.

Nate used to tap on his watch face with his index finger and say, “Nobody beats this guy.”

As a grandma, I’ve been labeling “distance” as my enemy, when in reality the enemy has been “time”. Its relentless march never slows, not for a second. Katy, Hans and I have had lengthy conversations this week during our evenings together, recently chatting about the passing of time. We’ve looked back and seen how we wasted it as youths and only appreciated time’s value when we seemed to have very little of it. I see these two young parents, fresh and strong in their mid-twenties, as having most of their lives ahead of them, while I view my life as waning. In truth, none of that may be accurate, since we can’t predict our futures.

When Hans and Katy called last year to announce a new baby would be coming this spring, I thought Nate and I would be traveling together to meet him or her (him and her, as it turned out). But time ran out sooner than we thought it would. This harsh reality, that time ends in different lives for different reasons, hovers over all of us.

Scripture puts the whole thing into perspective, describing our lives as a morning mist. In other places we’re likened to early dew that disappears, chaff swirling from a threshing floor or smoke escaping through a window. God is telling us that earthly life is fleeting and brief, over before we know it. Compared to eternity, it doesn’t matter much. When we ponder that broad truth, the ongoing mini-crises in our lives fall into proper perspective, and we become free to stop worrying, even about when we’ll next visit the children and grandchildren we love.  

”You do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes.” (James 4:14)

Gorgeous Glass

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In the homes of England there is an endless variety of stunning glass windows. The entry halls, back doors and garage doors often have panels of “privacy glass” made blurry by patterns an ice skater might have etched with her blades. These are not colored or stained glass but clear panes into which designs have been “drawn”. The array is limitless, each one calling to come close and appreciate its unique beauty.

 

Despite the fact that we had to capture a massive bumble bee yesterday after he slipped through an open window, generally people in North England don’t need screens. The windows are big, to let in an abundance of natural light in this country famous for its cloudy days, and my admiration knows no bounds.

British etched glass is double-paned, and often the windows are without curtains. After all, no one can clearly see through a bumpy piece of glass. The bathrooms, especially, have gorgeous windows. Since we’ve had a week full of sunshine, the splendor of the patterns when filled with light coming through has absolutely mesmerized me.

 

Meant to discourage people from looking in, the wavy glass is effective. It can, however, be an annoyance for the same reason. If you’re expecting a friend and can see someone standing beyond the glass but can’t quite identify who it is, it’s a little unnerving.

Sometimes I read Scripture the same way I look through the patterned glass, ending up with a wiggly or blurred comprehension. It’s easy to grasp the general idea of the verses but difficult to see the deeper meaning on the second, third or fourth level. My heart longs to get better at that. I’m continually asking the Lord to help me, and once in a while he opens my understanding to really “get it.” When that happens, it’s one of life’s paramount experiences.

Some of the first sentences we’ll speak in heaven will probably be, “Ohhh. I see it now. It’s so clear. Of course!”

 

People we know who’ve already died and beat us to heaven are privileged to know much more than we do. Nate is in that crowd, and I’m thankful for his increased clarity. As for the rest of us, I’m sure God has an important reason for tempering our understanding, allowing us only bits and pieces while we’re here on earth. We’ll see the logic of that, too, after we’re in glory.

In the mean time, just as I take pleasure in looking through the ripply glass windows of England, I’ll continue to enjoy studying Scripture and looking for the usually-but-not-always hidden meanings buried in God’s inspired words. More than likely, just a few of those is all I can bear to “see” for now.
“For all that is secret will eventually be brought into the open, and everything that is concealed will be brought to light and made known to all.” (Luke 8:17)