On Tuesday afternoon I rushed home, grabbed a shower and scrubbed myself from head to toe because Little One was scheduled to arrive momentarily, and I had strict instructions from The Daughter not to bring any contagion or leftover virus germs anywhere near Little One. I agreed that it was a good plan. I also vacuumed up the dog hair, battened down the hatches, ran out for a quick dinner with a friend, and had The Husband on alert to await the arrival of Little One. She came bouncing in with a suitcase packed to the gills and all manner of toddler paraphernalia including a box of diapers, a diaper bag, a lunch bag, a school bag and instructions for this and that.
Little One wasted no time and immediately began to take control of our lives. We are not people who usually surrender easily, but being a grandparent has wrought great changes in our willpower. We suddenly find ourselves dancing, albeit willingly, to the tune of a two-year-old. We cave in. We roll over and play dead more often than not. You have never seen two older adults (The Husband along with the Mom) fall over themselves to keep a little person happy and satisfied. If Little Miss wants to read books, we read books. If she wants to play her piano, we play the piano. If she wants to dance, we dance. If she wants to color and draw, we color and draw until we are blue in the face. I think you get the idea.
I never realize how slowly I move through life until Little One arrives and revolutionizes my world. I am used to waking up slowly. I like to pray in the mornings while I lie in my bed. That's my conversation time with the Lord. The husband is getting ready for work, and I am quietly talking to God about all manner of things. Praises, requests, and concerns. In retirement, what was once a luxury, has become the norm. I cannot complain. However, I confess I only prayed on the run when Little One stayed with us. There was no time for intercession. I was shooting my arrow prayers at God all the day long. I remembered all too quickly what those years had been like when my own children were underfoot. A contemplative prayer life seemed like some far-off dream.
Little One is gone now. Her GiGi, (who has more stamina than I have) is keeping her until The Daughter and The Son-in-Law get back. I am recuperating. I am thankful for a night of sleep when I am not listening with one ear for a little voice crying out in the dark. I am thankful that I am not getting up to start my day before the sun is up each morning. I am thankful that I am not stumbling around my kitchen trying to pull breakfast together for a hungry toddler before I have had a cup of coffee. I am thankful that I am not sort-of potty training anymore or changing poopy diapers. I am thankful that my prayer life is back on track.
Make no mistake, I am thankful to be the grandmother of precious Little One and precious Little Two. But I am also thankful that they have young mothers to care for them. I have been praying for them a lot more after this week. I am remembering that exhaustion that accompanies so much of parenting, and I am asking the God of all grace to grant them respite, rest, and peace. May He lead them beside the still waters and restore their souls. And I am praying that not just for these two, but for every young mother I know. And maybe some I don't know. I am so very glad that God's got that covered. He is a good and faithful God, is He not? That's why old women (with the exception of Sarah in the Bible), don't bear babies. Thank goodness. That's also why we just get to step in now and then. That's why we can pray, and pray, and pray some more. Can I hear an Amen?!