Dear Grand-girl (aka ‘Lil Miss Woods),
I’ve been thinking a long time about what kind of gift I could give you on your birthday – that very first day when you emerge from the safety of your darkened cocoon into the explosive light of the world you’ll soon call home. Another pink “welcome to the world” onesie, along with a matching “I’m the Grandma” t-shirt doesn’t quite fit the moment, so I think I’ll take a pass on those at this time. (But at some point, don’t be surprised if I’m decorated from head to toe in granny wear, a trait for which you can thank the Olsen side of your family tree. They love a good party and any occasion that allows them to dress up the moment with lavish expressions of wonderment and love.)
No, at this time in your life you don’t need more things to clutter your thinking. Instead, what you most need is the steady and certain love of a family that will never let you go–long and wide and high and deep stretches from the arms that will cradle your beginning and that will carry you forward for the rest of your life.
You’ve got that in us. We’re a sturdy bunch, a motley crew of misfits at times, but a crew strengthened and ready for your road ahead. Why ready? Well, we’ve spent our entire lives growing up so that we might better help you to do the same. Every single one of us have labored and strived all the days of our lives beneath the light and shadow of the Almighty–the Father who has knit you together in your precious momma’s womb. We’ve lived with God. We’ve walked with God. We’ve worked on our faith, and we know to whom we belong. God’s arms are the ones now cradling you in safety. Soon he’ll delivery you into ours. What mystery! What trust! What grace!
As your grandmother, I won’t always be ringside for some of your milestones. I’ll probably miss a lot of them, and I’m mostly OK with that. Those moments belong to you and your parents. And I know they’ll be great ones because I, too, have sat ringside to every milestone of the four kids God has entrusted me to raise … your dad, Nick, your Uncle Colton, your Uncle Jadon, and your Aunt Amelia. Their baptisms, their birthdays, their ballgames, their recitals, their break ups, their first days of driving, their graduations, their marriages, their tears, their fears. Their successes and their occasional failures. Their questions, their doubts, and their settled conclusions. It’s all been on a learning curve for me as a mom, but it has been and will remain the most exceptional privilege of my fifty-three years on this earth.
Wanna know a little secret about your dad? He made me a mom on April 11, 1989, the day after my 23rd birthday. He arrived two weeks prior to his due-date. I knew nothing about being a parent. Zilch. I had a lot of growing up to do myself, and for the last thirty years, I like to say that your dad and I have been growing up together. As he was learning to walk as a toddler, I was learning the fine art of walking as a mom. I still am.
And now, because of you, your parents will have the delicate and delightful privilege of further personal growth because they’ll grow alongside you. You will teach them their parenting skills. God has hand-picked you … entrusted you … as their training manual, and I am not one bit worried about their qualifications. They are rock stars.
Your dad is strong, thoughtful, courageous, contemplative, passionate, faithful, a gifted communicator, and he is truthful (perhaps one of the qualities I admire most about him). A person of truth is a person unafraid of exposure. It takes a long time to cultivate that kind of integrity (some of us spend our entire lives endeavoring to get there), but your dad seemed to be born with a generous portion of it in his DNA. He can’t help but tell the truth, even when it costs him some of his pride (and he’s got a lot of that too, but you’ll help him with that). He will never leave you. He is devoted to you and to your mom. And because Nick’s not a time waster, I always said that he would marry the first woman he seriously dated because he wasn’t going to prattle away a single moment on a girl he hadn’t already decided was worth the investment. I was right.
To give his heart wholeheartedly to one woman, your mom, is one of the greatest gifts he’s already given you. But even more important than his devotion to your mother, your father is devoted to your Creator, and beneath that light and shadow, he will carefully guard his own deposit of faith entrusted to him at an early age so that, in time, you’ll be collecting a faith your own.
As a mom, I have learned this most important truth, and now as your grandmother, I will endeavor to live it out more fully:
My job, my legacy, is to drop enough breadcrumbs of faith along the trodden path of this life so that all of my children, that you and the other grand-girls and grand-boys who will eventually fill up our family tree, can safely find your way home … back into the hands of the One who authored your life and who promises to perfect it.
And now, a word or two about your mom. I don’t know her nearly as well as I know your dad, but in the short time we’ve done life together, I am solidly convinced about her character and her commitment to raise you up with deep roots. Your mom’s strength is equal to your dad’s. She’s a home-grown, home-town girl whose sense of family anchors deeply within that Appalachian soil where she took her first steps. She’s smart (I mean really smart – she’s a professor with a PhD and everything and can produce an academic paper worthy of publication as easily as she drinks a cup of water). She’s clever, witty and can hold her own when it comes to matching wills with your father. She’s quiet, but when she speaks, we listen in because we know we’re going to get something more, another little piece of the puzzle that tells us who she is. I imagine that in these days of growing up alongside you, your mom will reveal even bigger pieces of her story to us, and I think those revelations will blow our minds. She’ll be the doorkeeper of your home, closely guarding who’s coming in and even more so, your going out. She’s a secret-keeper, and while I’m on the complete opposite end of that spectrum, I think her ability to hold things more closely to her heart (to not vocally share every blessed thought that comes into her mind) will help you to learn how to govern your own thoughts, your words, your actions.
Both of your parents already love you unconditionally. The relationship that you share with them will probably be the most important, framed picture in your home, the best snapshot that captures how Jesus really does love us all … that agape love which puts “best interest over self- interest” (you can read all about that kind of loving in 1 Corinthians 13. Uncle Jadon will be happy to break it down for you. He loves God’s Word, and he’ll love answering all your questions). This kind of love is an important picture to hang in your heart, and it has been through this lens (this love that I have for my four children) that I have finally been able to grasp just an inkling of how much I am loved by God. Best interest over self-interest … the Calvary story. One I will tell you more about in coming days. Consider this letter the prologue.
So sweet precious grand-girl, you who I have not yet seen with my eyes, you whose name has not yet been revealed to the world, I am at a better place of peace in my life because you are now in it. God has seen you. God knows your name, and very soon we’ll start writing the chapters of your life together. And when you can’t find the words to your story, I’ll help you look for them. When the chapters don’t make sense in isolation, I’ll remind you of the bigger picture … that all good stories have a clear beginning, a mostly muddled middle, and, ultimately, a grand conclusion. When the pen you’re holding in your hand loses its ink, when the well from which you draw the lines of your story seemingly dries up, come over to mine and borrow some. My well runs long and wide and high and deep. I’ll lend you my strength because this fragile world you’re entering into, the one where you will write your legacy, will require it. Don’t let that reality scare you. Instead, let it challenge you, embolden you, because this I promise you …
God has already given you everything you need to make it through this delicate dance called life. He’s given you the promise of his presence, and he’s given you the present of our presence. Presence is the best gift we can give you on the advent of your arrival. You’re one of us now. Your name has been carved into the family tree, smack dab in the middle of our names. Our signatures surround yours. We’ll watch over you, and by God’s grace, we’ll all leave a trail of breadcrumbs so that you might most clearly and most easily find your way home.
And as always, may God forever bestow upon you, over you and beneath you, before and behind you, his peace for the journey. There’s no better place to grow up.
I love you,
Your granny
Christmas has cost me a few pounds. A recent doctor’s visit and my turn on the scale indicated this reality. Accordingly, upon my return home, I purged the remnants of my kitchen–those remaining crumbs of a recent, earlier delight. I had had enough of indulgence. My body knew it; perhaps even greater, my mind … my spirit was in agreement. And when those two entities collide, when the flesh and the spirit are in agreement, then healthier choices take place. The fullness that comes to our stomachs when walking in tandem with the spirit is a course-correct that will eventually balance out the cost of earlier, unchecked indulgences.