The long awaited call came and from the ‘corner of my ear’ I overheard him say, “How’s it going…it’s all over…it’s a girl!”
Our first grandchild had arrived, and God had answered the secret prayer of my heart. I would have accepted, loved and enjoyed a grandson; I fully expected a little boy. But this was like frosting on a cake, pink frosting, a little pink bow, and pretty little dresses. I was beside myself with joy.
Being the reasonable, sensible people that we are, my husband agreed that we could wait until morning. They would call and tell us the best time to visit. After all, the mother and father had had a hard day’s work and needed some rest. Surely, I could be patient for a few more hours my husband reassured me.
Though I tried very hard to settle down for the night my excitement keptgrowing and my mouth kept talking: first to my husband till I wore him out; and then family and friends who might respond pleasantly to night calls of this nature. Had this been a century or so ago, I probably would have positioned myself as a town crier, ringing out the good news.
Finally, I sat with pen in hand and various books around me: journals, catalogs of items for babies and other grandmother type books. After all I was a grandmother now!
A memory of an incident some years ago went across my mind. While waiting for my husband in a mall parking lot, I noticed a woman approaching a man and a little boy. Suddenly the child let go of the man’s hand and ran straight into the woman’s arms, wrapping himself around her in joyful abandonment. As I watched the scene, tears began to well in my eyes. In that moment I realized I would never again experience my sons in such a way. There would be the warm hugs, pats on the back or brief, glancing kisses to the cheeks…but never abandonment into my arms. I later shared my sorrow with my husband and I can still remember his quiet response. “That’s not quite true. You will have that experience of love again when we have grandchildren.”
The morning finally arrived and we heard the awaited words, “Your granddaughter is anxious to meet Nana and Puppa.” We no more than hung up the receiver and we were out the door.
Quietly we entered the room and looked upon our own nativity scene. The child lay in her little crib, rosy and sleeping like an angel as her parents looked on.
“Ohhh… She’s so beautiful, so perfect.” We said through tears of joy. “Think of the goodness of the Lord who allowed her to be born into our family of men.” We were awed.
Then came the moment when our son placed her in our arms. As I held her the words of greeting came from my heart. “Oh, my precious, beautiful baby, I have been waiting for you for so long. Welcome to this world and our family.”
There was an immediate bonding…this child was flesh of my flesh. And there was a greater appreciation for the miracle of birth that age and experience brings.
All too soon it was time to place her back into her crib and to gently put a cover over her. In my mind I saw that little blanket as a covering of our love, forever hers. As we left her in her parents care, I praised our loving God who created such a miracle, and allowed us to have a small part in it.
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