I picked her up from the nursery and her bare feet dangled from her perch on the nursery worker’s arm.
She smiled and dimples dipped into pale pink cheeks.
A sherbet green cardigan covered her bare arms. She calls out my name, “Dandy.”
I have known her for almost a year and a half, but I feel like she is someone I have been waiting on for a long time---someone I have been preparing for. I feel like I have always known her, like she is a part of me---and she is.
Last night I log into facebook, and I read what was on my daughter’s mind:
“Naomi melts my heart every few seconds...I love working when she's occupied by things at my feet and not wanting to help design. But then she just looks up and laughs or kisses my legs or tickles my toes! What a wonderful little friend she is!”
I hardly ever comment on my children’s pages. I know that could get me in trouble and unfriended!! Let just say I don’t comment much at all. But with her post, I couldn’t resist as my heart and my mind went back to the days when Naomi’s mother sat at my feet and smiled at me.
“I wasn't designing but I don't know what I would have done without my "little friend" while her Daddy was in medical school. I glad my "joy" is enjoying her "joy."
Someone asked me how I liked being a grandmother. I told them I liked it but I was surprised by one of the particular blessings that came with the gig. That blessing was getting to see my daughter be a mother.
She is a great mother---much better than I was at her age. I see her with her child, her belly now swelling with the next little girl due to arrive at the end of the summer, and I am overwhelmed that God is allowing me to watch her raise up the next generation.
I wasn’t ready to live in the middle of life. I am still surprised when I look in the mirror and even more so, when I see myself in a photograph. I’ve kept the crown of glory on my head beautifully colored and highlighted. But still the tell tale signs are there and I won’t disguise them. I don’t think I could keep up.
My grandmother always told me that no matter how old she got she felt eighteen in her heart. If I could sit with her now, I would tell her that for me it feels like twenty-three.
One generation commends your works to another; they tell of your mighty acts.They speak of the glorious splendor of your majesty— and I will meditate on your wonderful works.They tell of the power of your awesome works— and I will proclaim your great deeds.They celebrate your abundant goodness and joyfully sing of your righteousness.Ps. 145:4-7
If you read my blog, you haven’t read it much lately! I have been living! And I am asking for prayer today because the men in my house are sick with fevers and I have a lot on my plate. Maybe I can write about that plate later and tell you what is on it.
Continuing the Joy Dare with Ann:
- chef-made vanilla ice cream luscious and barely cold, a taste of heaven
- loving to tell the story of His wondrous love for me
- text-laughing with friends
- the roses this year—fabulous
- hope in a boy’s voice
- Daddy in the hayfield, a life come full circle
- Naomi playing with her Momma’s and uncle’s toys
- Candles lit, flickering at the front of the church