Just some early morning thoughts from me to you…
“When Jesus saw this, he was indignant. He said to them, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” And he took the children in his arms, placed his hands on them and blessed them.”
Mark 10: 14-16 (NIV)
God poked me to go downstairs to the labor and delivery area. It was off-limits to the public, even grandparents.
Access only through locked doors by code—or, as it would turn out, by divine invitation.
Never one to ignore God’s pokes, I went downstairs, and stood outside of the locked doors to the labor and delivery area. By timely divine arrangement, they swung open as a nurse was leaving the area, allowing me to step into the hallway near to where our first grandchild was soon to be born.
Standing there waiting, I heard a baby’s cry—our grandchild’s first cry, as it turned out to be.
Two days ago was her twenty-third birthday.
We didn’t know whether to expect a little girl or boy—her parents wanted to be surprised. We prayed for the baby’s health, health for mom and dad, for parental Godly wisdom and courage protecting and always seeking the best for their precious child.
And for that day when our grandchild would come to know Jesus Christ, personally.
I returned to the upstairs waiting room, where folks usually waited, absent a Godly poke, just before our son, Nathan, arrived to announce that the doctors were cleaning up his “two girls.”
Our first grandchild—a little girl named Hannah!
Mom and she were both well and healthy. And our 20 ½ inch long, 8 lbs. 3 ½ ounce precious bundle of potential was now here for us to hold and adore for the rest of our lives.
We had heard, and witnessed it with others, that being a grandparent was an experience beyond understanding. But it remained simply something abstract for Lynda and me, until that sacred moment beyond description where it became a real and personal experience at 12:33 p.m. on July 9, 1999.
And on the occasion, two days ago, of the celebration of her birth, my bride Lynda—“Mimi”—remembered the moment when looking at the framed picture of the first time “Mimi” held her precious Hannah in her arms, just hours after she was born.
“You took my breath away,” Lynda said and smiled through tears as we looked at the picture, and then Hannah’s precious face near us. She said it right.
And for us, Hannah still does, and always will. As does our precious younger granddaughter, Ellie.
How I wish that were the case for children and grandchildren everywhere.
That every child, everywhere, of any age, would have someone in their life who feels that child is a precious gift of God—a child who “takes their breath away.”
One person, who would bless every moment of their life. Oh how I wish that were so for children, grandchildren and all of God’s “children of all ages,” everywhere.
May I be so bold as to suggest to us—“Why not.”
Why not you and me doing that for one child at a time, or one person of any age, each and every day, wherever and whenever God places them before us.
Because that child we bless will never be the same, and neither will you.
Happy Birthday, dear and precious Hannah.
Thank you Lord, for our sacred gift.
In His Name–Scott