Yearly Archives: 2010

Grandchild Enthusiasm

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When I pulled up to Chicago’s Midway Airport arrival curb today, I felt like an excited child arriving at Great America. Orange-vested security police shook their batons in my direction shouting, “Keep moving!” but I ignored them to scan the sidewalk for four familiar faces.

Finally seeing them gave me permission to stop the car and jump out to greet Linnea and family from Florida. I raced up to Skylar and Micah, strapped into a double stroller, anxious to get my hands on my grandbabies. Because I’ve overdone past greetings, I approached with caution. I didn’t want to see a bottom lip come out with that look of “Mommy! Help!”

But all of a sudden, for the first time, Skylar reached for me and squirmed to escape from the stroller. “Grandma Midgee!” she shouted, with her arms up. What a treat it was to lift up my oldest grandchild and get those grandma-hugs and kisses!

Oftentimes little ones need a warm-up period after lengthy separations. After every farewell, Linnea has said, “I think she’ll remember everything next time.” But when you’re not even two yet, several months of separation can amount to half a lifetime. My grandma-thrills have been many in the last 25 months, but today’s recognition was the best.

Although Micah looked at me favorably, I could tell there was no “click”. After all, he’s only seven months. But Skylar and I picked up right where we left off. “Grandma Midgee! We can go to the beach! And wear our babing suits! And where’s Jack? He’s waiting for me at Grandma Midgee’s house! And look at all the busses!”

One of the greatest things about Skylar is that she’s an exclamation-point-child. Everything is spoken at high decibel and with great gusto. When Linnea pleads, “Skylar, not so loud, please…” Skylar responds obediently. “OK, MOMMY!” with an exclamation point!

An old proverb says, “Grandparents and grandchildren are God’s gift to each other.” I know my five grandbabies are indeed gifts beyond measuring, and I do hope they’ll grow up knowing how much I love them. I want to be a grandma who looks into their eyes when they talk and always has time to listen. Tonight Skylar said, “Grandma Midgee! I have a good idea!”

We couldn’t wait to hear it. “ ‘Scuse me!” she said. “I’m moving this chair!” And right after she rammed it into the footboard of my bed, she took a flying leap and landed on the puffy blanket, laughing in exclamation points. Louisa and I laughed too and followed her lead onto the blanket. She was right. It was a good idea!

God could have populated the world by growing children on trees or dropping them through clouds. Instead he sends them to families through generations. Fortunate are the parents who live to be grandparents and even great-grandparents. As Skylar would say, “God had a good idea!”

Today at the airport I was so engrossed in grabbing Skylar I nearly forgot to greet my own daughter. When she finally put her arm around me and sweetly said, “Hi, Mom,” I sheepishly grinned. “Oh honey, yes, I’m glad to see you, too!”

…with an exclamation point!

“Whoever welcomes a little child like this in my name welcomes me.” (Matthew 18:5)

Why was I surprised?

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How did summertime flea-and-tick weather get such a jump on Jack’s Frontline treatments? The sad truth is we haven’t treated him for a year, thinking he was healthy enough to fight fleas on his own. Wrong.

Because of his itching, scratching, licking and nibbling, today we took him to the vet. Although Louisa and I thought he might have worms (common in outdoor-loving pets), the doctor disagreed, insisting it was just a bad case of fleas.

“Have you been using Frontline?”

“Uh…”

“Have you been giving him his heartworm prevention pills?”

“Uh…”

“Has he been tested for lyme disease?”

“Uh…”

“Did you bring a stool sample?”

The bottom line: we are negligent pet owners, and Jack not only has fleas but also lyme disease. The vet, who casually leaned on his stainless pet-examining table when he told us this, had no alarm in his voice. “We’ll treat it with antibiotics, and he’ll be fine.”

After two hours, we left the office with Jack and his bagful of goodies: Frontline, Hartgard, antibiotics, a fistful of explanatory pamphlets and a bill for $289.

But we can’t blame Jack. He got into trouble just doing what comes naturally, nosing under bushes, chasing deer through the woods (thus deer ticks, thus lyme disease), swimming in the lake and drinking creek cocktails.

While Weezi and I waited in the lobby between a stool analysis and the blood draw, a different drama unfolded in front of us. A whole family entered the office, mom, dad, sister and brother. The young boy came in last, carrying a fluffy white pillow on which lay a big Siamese cat. Louisa whispered, “I guess they brought the whole family?”

But in two minutes we understood. Their cat was very sick, and they had come to put him to sleep. While waiting to go in, the mom approached the receptionist with two vials of pills. “She didn’t use these,” she said. “We never opened them. Maybe you can donate them somewhere. If not… well… we never… we couldn’t… we didn’t…” and then she burst into tears.

Her daughter hugged her while she wept, and the receptionist offered Kleenex. Then all of a sudden, I was sobbing, too. Louisa turned and said, “But Mom, it’s not our cat…” I couldn’t explain. Somehow watching that family grieve as death approached their friend caused deep empathy to well up and overflow. It had to do with death’s finality, its forced separation from the ones we love and, yes, it had to do with Nate.

Why was I surprised?

God created people to live forever. He meant it to occur in a perfect world without sorrow, and when death aborts life, something inside us turns upside down. The scene we witnessed today and the one in our home last fall belong in that up-ended world, and we hate it.

God hasn’t changed his mind about us living forever, though. The only adjustment is our need to pass through earthly death (as Nate did) before we can reach eternal life. If we do things God’s way by entrusting our lives to his Son, death becomes a passage to the sorrow-free life he intended at the beginning.

God will bring joy from suffering and life from death. Why am I not surprised?

“His anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime! Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning.” (Psalm 30:5)

Battling Birth Questions

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Last week I heard a radio broadcast focused on stem cell research, which has recently been in the news again. The topic of frozen embryos came up, as well as the competition for control of these potential children by two groups: eager science labs and willing adoptive parents. Because couples attempting in vitro fertilization usually end up with more embryos than they use, hundreds of thousands of these are awaiting release to one group or the other.

Embryo adoption seems like a wise solution, although an explanation of the child’s origins might be tricky. All of us are curious about how we came to be. Why did we end up male or female, and why did we land first, middle or last in the birth order?

The Nyman family was designed like this: boy-boy-girl-boy-boy-girl-girl. I say “designed” because I believe God puts families together purposefully, one child at a time. Whether born-into, adopted or originating as a frozen embryo, the Lord considers all the factors in his decision-making: which parents, what sex for each child, what birth position, what personality, what physical appearance, when in human history he/she should arrive and every other detail.

I remember Linnea approaching me at the age of four. “It isn’t fair!” she said, her freckled face full of fury. “You had four boys and only me for a girl!”

Before I could comment, she launched into a lecture letting me know I had no business tipping the scales so heavily toward the boy side. “Why did you?” she cried.

Yes, it appeared unfair. If we were voting on babies, her impression was I’d stuffed the ballot box in favor of boys because I liked them four times better than girls.

The answer that came to me was only two words: “God decided.”

Like it or not, that was the truth; the buck always stopped with him. I’ve been thankful on more than one occasion for his permission to use his omnipotence in this way, and as always when God shows up in authority, the debate ceases. Even a six year old knew she couldn’t fight him.

All of us have wondered at one time or another why we were born as we were. Because faith in God is the fulcrum of my life, I’ve always wondered why I was born to Christian parents who led the way to Jesus. What if Mom and Dad had been Muslim? Or Buddist? Or Hindu? Would I have followed their lead?

We aren’t in a position to demand answers to those questions. But I believe one day in heaven we’ll be shown, and when we hear God’s explanation we’ll say, “Ohhhh. Now I understand.”

Linnea eventually accepted her feminine fate, and I worked harder to partner with her in family femininity. Once she accepted that it was God who made her and her siblings as they were, she chose to partner with him in finding a solution to her problem, asking him every night to make a sister for her.

After she asked for many years, he made her two.

“I, Wisdom, live together with good judgment. And how happy I was with the world the Lord created; how I rejoiced with the human family!” (Proverbs 8:12,31)