A Honey of a Day

     A little person has come to live in my heart. She has taken up permanent residence and is very quickly carving out her own special space in my life. If I am not careful, the love I feel for her just might consume me. When I birthed my own children and looked into their faces for the first time, it was if time stood still. I was overcome with the depth of the love I immediately felt for the tiny dependent creatures in my arms, and while I trembled at the the joy of discovery that awaited me, there was also that overwhelming sense of responsibility and the nagging fingers of fear that would assail me at times throughout the years. Almost from the beginning I was aware of my own inadequacy long before my children discovered it, but thankfully, I trusted a God whom I believed could and would transform, redeem, and renew my ineffectual attempts to love my own flesh and blood with a Holy love. It is His truth, His grace, and His provision that have helped me through many a sleepless night.
   Yet something different happened two weeks ago when I held my first grandchild in my arms. It was a glimpse of glory the likes of which I had heretofore never known. It was like the first white snowdrop that lifts its sweet head after the hint of spring thaw. It is the fragrance of the narcissus as it speaks to us the promise of all that is to come. To watch my daughter with her daughter is so much more than bearing witness to the hope that the continuity of the generations brings. It is a something greater and more elemental that carries within it the essence of the holy and the sacramental. As I delight in the love that I see reflected in my daughter's eyes for her little one, I  know that I am seeing the faithfulness of God reaching to the heavens.
    I am a blessed woman indeed.