Grandparents Day


Last year, Michal and I were invited to participate in Grandparents' day organized by Joshua's school, as stand-ins for his far-away grandparents.  Being assured twice by one of Joshua's classmates that we looked too young to be grandparents, we mingled freely with our beloved, honored to catch a glimpse of his scholastic world.  Joshua was happy to immerse us in his newest projects, to explore with us the meaning behind drawings, posters and painted treasure chests.  I sat at his desk and peered into his world through the objects hidden inside,  awed at how far he has climbed mentally and emotionally since our baby-sitting days.

One of my earliest memories of Joshua is the first time I saw him step outside, on a summer day .  He bent down, grabbed some blades of grass, and throwing them in the air, he exclaimed "wow!".  I was bedazzled by his awe, for I never looked at grass with wonder,  never swelled with marvel at its vibrant color.  A few years down the road, when we would walk the sidewalk, me holding his hand and talking about the flowers, he would stop and exclaim again "wow"!.  There were many things that wowed him in those days:  birds dancing overhead, bees pollinating flowers, butterflies gliding beside us, large noisy vehicles... and the ice cream truck, of course.  In fact, one time he was so fascinated and disturbed by the advent of ice cream from this box on wheels that it arrested his monologue for the entire afternoon.

One of his great pleasures was to open and close our shower door for as long as the supervising adult-me-could  contain the absence of danger.  Or emptying all our bathroom cupboards and examining with glee the mundane objects of grooming.  Or pressing the button-in fact, any button-in the elevator, or the phone, or the dishwasher.  There is something truly riveting about those buttons that I haven't apprehended yet, with all the knowledge that adulthood was supposed to grant me...   Or taking the escalator as many times as the observing adult-me again-would deem respectable.  Joshua's world was so small, yet so adventurous, so exciting...

Michal and I often talk about snippets of his childhood with a nostalgia that seeks to keep alive the first decade of his life.  I was often convicted by how small my joy is at the pleasures of life:  the smell of a rose, the aroma of freshly-cut papaya, the first snowfall...  Every day,  something in God's book of nature is a call for a burning-bush encounter, a call to remove my shoes of indifference and experience the awe of a great God painting my world with great things... Who else but God could move my heart with the warm, flaming colors of  sunset, alive with wonder every evening?  And just like Joshua crying "push the button again, auntie", I whisper "show me another sunset, Lord"...  Who else but a great, good God could trigger my pleasure again and again with the rich taste of dark chocolate, or the roar of the waves pummeling the beach, or the velvety touch of spring blooms?

As Joshua advanced in age and maturity, he noticed less the life of the flowers or the waterfall elevator.  However, as his understanding expanded, so did his capacity to taste and see the goodness of God, his pleasure quotient directly proportional to the magnitude of discovery.  At the ripe age of almost preteen, he is mesmerized by beautifully-crafted words, the order of planets,  his mini Schnauzer Coco.

God is big enough to sustain our wonder at any age, any stage of life.  I  can never exhaust the pleasure of morning promenades on the beach, or the warm evenings under the breath of the moon.  He whispers His love through these and a thousand more gifts, inviting me to mingle my soul with the beauty revealed in the book of nature.  I may not be wowed by the moist soil shielding the virgin blade of grass, or the trail of a plane in the translucent skies, like Joshua used to be;  however, I am endlessly wowed by the gifts each new day brings - the kiss of Majesty upon a soul thirsty for the sacred beauty of life.

"The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness." (Lamentations 3:22.23)



Christmas

 Mary drew her Son close to her breast, the smell of His newborn skin enveloping her senses.  She could feel His breath exhaled in a soft mi...