There's alot of grasping of little hands in this season. For weeks or maybe a month or two, no chubby little mitts reach out for Ma to hold on to. And then the car doors slam, and I hear a stampede of little feet as they make their way to our door. Little arms reach up for hugs. And I'm hit with a barrage of very urgent chatter as they share what's important.
And I know that loving this next generation is the most important work I will do in this season. No one ever told me how the love of a grandma could be so deeply intense, yet so much fun. And I am head over heels ...
I grasp onto this call with all I've got. And ride the wave. These days will be done far too soon.
That I know.
