Fiction

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As the ringing alarm clock broke through the morning stillness, I remembered what day it was and rose quickly, eager to start the day. An hour later, freshly showered and dressed, I tucked a small package into my purse, eased into the old Chevy, and pulled the door shut. Today I would see my new granddaughter for the first time.

Turning South onto Longley Boulevard, a frown of worry creased my brow for a minute, and I wondered if I had been the best mother I could be to Jess. She was a mom herself, now. Had I given her all the training and guidance she needed? Had I been patient enough, generous enough, firm enough? I looked skyward and cringed, realizing I had asked God to guide me in caring for my daughter years ago, and to worry meant I still didn’t trust Him.

“Sorry, Lord.” I whispered. “I know You were there every step of the way. But, did I listen to Your still, small voice often enough? Did I point Jessie toward You so that she will remember to lean on You when life gets hard?”

I said another prayer, this time thanking God for all He’d done in Jessie’s life. Through the many times Jess had needed Him, He had always provided. “Father, please help me not to doubt and increase my faith,” I pleaded.

After leaving my car in the cool parking garage, I entered Greenview Hospital’s spacious lobby and waited at the elevator. I imagined Jess in the days to come, up in the early mornings, cuddling this tiny new life, and felt a twinge of jealousy. Life was about to change drastically for everyone whose lives this baby touched. Would Jessie still have time to call and visit with me with a baby to care for?

As the elevator doors slid open I saw my son-in-law, Brad, who smiled and held his arms wide, walking up to hug me.
“Congratulations, Brad.” I murmured into his shoulder, “Where are my girls?”
“Right through here, Mom.” He beamed, leading the way into the room. Walking around the curtain, the two of us stopped, soaking in the beauty of mother and child resting together. Jessie’s eyes sparkled as she smiled, glowing. I stepped closer, leaning over to squeeze her shoulders.
“Jess.” I smiled into her hair. I pulled back, searching her eyes, “Are you well?”
She nodded, then said, “Come see your little Tessa, Mom.”
“Tessa?” I asked, surprised. “I thought you were naming her Lily.”
“We were, until this morning, that is. I was having trouble getting her to nurse, and we were both crying, when suddenly she looked up at me with this wise little expression as if to say, ’You’re trying too hard. Just relax, trust God, and everything will be okay,’ just like you always say. I did, and everything went fine after that. So, we decided that she took after her wise ol’ Grandmother,” she teased, “and we named her after you.”

Tears flowed as we held each other and then watched together as little Tess slept. I took the package from my purse and laid it on the bed next to her. Jessie, nodding in understanding, smiled through her tears. “Birthday letters. Thanks, Mom. I’ve kept all of mine,” she said, remembering the words of encouragement and wisdom in each. “They still mean so much. I know Tessa will cherish hers, too. You’ve always been there for me, Mom. Thank you.” She raised her eyebrows, “I guess I’d better put more minutes on my cell phone now. I think I’m going to be calling you a lot more often!”

All previous guilt evaporated as I absorbed what she’d said. My own words came back to me, “You’re trying too hard. Just relax, trust God, and everything will be fine.” How many years ago had God spoken those words to my heart when I was a young mother? And now Jess had learned them, and had taken them to heart. I looked at my daughter and realized she would most likely pass those words onto her little one as she raised her. A legacy had begun. I felt peaceful suddenly, assured by my daughter’s words that I had been the Mom that she had needed, and that she still did. A tiny sigh escaped the sleeping baby, content with her world for the moment, and we all smiled in agreement.

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