Wednesday, August 14, 2019

“I remember your genuine faith, for you share the faith that first filled your grandmother Lois and your mother, Eunice. And I know that same faith continues strong in you.” (1 Timothy 1:5, New Living Translation) 

                He likes me! He really likes me!

                After celebrating Spencer’s third birthday on Sunday, the remaining adults were sitting around chatting and his bed time rolled around. He was asked which adult he wanted to get him ready for bed. There were his Mom and Dad, his paternal grandmother, Susan and me.  “Grandpa!” he said. Music to my ears.

                As we went through the bed time routines, goofing around while he got his PJs on, reading stories, getting him “new” water for his water bottle and the like, it struck me how much our young grandchildren simply enjoy me for being me. I had also wrestled and played with William and Henry on Sunday. Declan loves it when we are tickling each other and I blow raspberries on his tummy as I did when they visited us at our rented vacation place on Lake Erie. In their eyes, I don’t have to be a super hero or a rock star or a millionaire or an astronaut or have invented a cure for cancer. All I need is to be Grandpa – available, ready with hugs and kisses, ready to rumble, ready to play and read stories. I can do that. Thankfully, it doesn’t take a genius either. I don’t even have to practice.

                There will come a day, no doubt, i.e. when they are  teenagers, in which  they will breeze into the room, give a quick wave and be gone before I have a chance at making some corny joke or telling some same old story to which they will roll their eyes and hide in their bedroom for the rest of my visit. So, I am going to enjoy and treasure every moment of these precious youngest years and savour them like fine, aged single malt scotch. I will have many more such blessings to come as we anticipate the births of two granddaughters and a grandson over the next few months. But they seem to grow up too fast too soon.

                Our verse comes from Paul’s letter to his protégé, Timothy, now a young man. Paul remembers the environment of his grandmother and mother’s faith which surrounded Timothy as he grew up. The legacy of that faith vibrantly continues through Timothy’s life. 

I am always sorry when I hear adults recount bad or painful memories about their religious upbringing. Being forced to go to church. Boring church. Experienced too much hypocrisy.  Parents, especially clergy parents, who were too strict and severe, especially in their disciplinary methods.  This cold, hard type of religious upbringing makes good pagans and understandably so.  Severe religious demands upon children do not mirror the Jesus’ practice of suffering the little children to come unto him.

                It would appear that Timothy had a warm, loving, inspiring and nurturing childhood which faith played no small part. As a boy he watched this Christian faith being played out by his grandmother and mother. He wasn’t just force-fed religion; he watched it in action.  And I wouldn’t wonder at all if there were also hugs and tickles and kisses and stories. Lois and Eunice knew what it took to raise a child.  Otherwise, Timothy wouldn’t be the sort of person he was becoming.

                So, for as along as my grandkids allow, I am totally into this grandparenting thing. “Grandpa!” – now that is music to my ears! 

Dale