"Grandchildren are God’s way of compensating us for growing old. ~Mary H. Waldrip

"Which is better, being a Mommy or a Mimi?"

That is the question that Sarah asked me recently when she and Lydia came for a visit.  My initial response was, "Being a Mimi, by far!"  I was thinking at the time about the fact that grandparents get to enjoy all of the great things about grandchildren with none of the responsibilities of parenting.  But as I have thought about that, I would have to say that being a mommy and being a Mimi are equally wonderful - just in different ways.

This same weekend last year found our family gathered in College Station to celebrate Caleb's 22nd birthday.  And it was on that occasion that Sarah and Ryan shared the news that Sarah was expecting.  I can still feel the emotions I felt that day - the surreal joy of knowing that our firstborn was carrying her firstborn.  Tears well up even now as I remember that day.


The ensuing eight months were filled with great anticipation, as we monitored every doctor's appointment, ultrasound image, and pregnancy symptom.  I enjoyed the excitement of watching Sarah's belly grow, and putting my hand there to feel Lydia move.  We soaked in the pictures of the nursery, and the fun of a baby shower.  And then on September 29, we relished every moment of that day - from the text message updates from Ryan, to holding the brand new, precious, sweet baby Lydia - my first grand baby.

Since that day, my life has been filled with Lydia moments - helping out the first few weeks after she was born, cuddling and rocking during the middle of the night, seeing her smile, changing her diaper, walking her back and forth in front of the Christmas tree lights, giving her baths,reading to her, cheering as she rolled over, and the list goes on and on.

Lydia turned four months old yesterday.  I know I am new very new at this Mimi stuff, but I have learned a few things from my experiences so far...

Being a Mimi has reminded me of my Granny.  I think more often about the relationship I had with her, and now in reverse I have that same relationship with Lydia.  My Granny loved me like I love Lydia.  I can appreciate that more now that I am a Mimi. Granny was special to me, and I KNEW that I was uniquely special to her.  I especially treasure the times I spent with her after I was grown - no one else was ever as consistently happy to see me walk in the door as Granny was.  I look forward to sharing lots of similar experiences - and more - with Lydia.

Becoming a Mimi has also caused me to have more concern for the state and future of this world.  Following the natural course of things, Lydia will live in this world much longer than I will, and even longer than her parents, if the Lord wills.  And that gives me great concern.  It also causes me to pray more about the future of this world, and to pray for Lydia's future and faith.

Lydia causes time to slow down.  I've noticed that when Lydia is here, sometimes I don't get a shower until  noon.  And I also tend to stay up later than usual at night.  The laundry doesn't always stay caught up, and the house usually becomes unkempt.  But all of that is more than ok - because that just means that I'm enjoying the precious moments spent with our sweet grandbaby.  I could do nothing but spend time with her, and that would always be a perfect use of time.

Lydia takes me back to Sarah's infancy.  Although Lydia looks more like her daddy, she shares a lot of the same characteristics of infancy with her mommy - like the way she sleeps with her arms spread out.  As children grow, we tend to forget all of the sweetness of their babyhood - Lydia brings all of that back to my mind in a very vivid way.

Likewise, Lydia's presence gives me a whole new love and appreciation for Sarah.  Sarah is such a great mommy!  I watch her and am moved by the love she has for her little one - the same love I have for her.  She reminds me of the extreme joy I felt over every little milestone, and the anxiety I felt over every little difficulty when I was a new mommy.  My daughter, who is now a mother - now she gets it.  She REALLY gets it in a way that can only be learned through experience.  And I love observing that through her!

And finally, Lydia has brought a whole new love to my life.  The love between grandmother and grandchild is as unique and special as any other love.  That precious baby girl has literally turned my world upside down!  I have this picture to the right as the background on my phone . . . And whenever I need a smile, I just look at it.  I mean, seriously - have you EVER seen anything so precious?  I relish every moment I get to spend with her, and I miss her when she's gone.  And then, I eagerly anticipate the time I get to see her again.  Every picture, every Facetime experience, every video, and every personal interaction is so precious and so treasured by this Mimi.



Four months.  Actually a whole year.  And in reality, over 25 years.  So blessed, and so thankful for this precious child who made me a Mimi, and for the three children who made me a Mommy.  Both of those roles are incomparable blessings too great to describe. These offspring make the future so bright.  Psalm 127:3 states, "Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward."  And Proverbs 17:6 says, "Grandchildren are the crown of the aged..."  What a heritage and reward.  And what a crown.   Blessings that truly overwhelm.

"Conspicuously absent from the Ten Commandments is any obligation of parent to child. We must suppose that God felt it unnecessary to command by law what He had ensured by love." ~Robert Brault

On September 21, 1990, I became a mother.  And my life has never been the same.

My children.  Sarah, Rebecca, and Caleb.  There is no way to adequately describe what those three young folks mean to me.  And our tribe has grown, as we've added Ryan.  And Lydia ... sweet Lydia.

These children have consumed my thoughts and prayers since I first learned I was pregnant with the girls in February of 1990 - actually, even before then.  I think every other mother is the same way - at least the ones I know.  And while I have a life separate from my children (which is not only necessary, but healthy), they are each a part of me.  My heart is so wrapped around each one of theirs, that I feel a unique connection with each of them that I feel with no one else.  As Elizabeth Stone put it, they are pieces of my heart, which are now walking around outside of my body.  And when those pieces of my heart hurt, I feel it in a very real and literal way.  Likewise, nothing brings me more joy than their joys.   Every mother knows exactly what I am talking about.

What has been eye-opening for me in this journey of motherhood is that the job doesn't end.  It only changes, and in some ways it grows more difficult.  When I was a new mother, I was under the mistaken impression that when the children grew up and left home, my job would be over.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  And while I continue to have concern for each one of them in the physical things of life - their health and safety - the overriding concern that I have learned will never end is my concern for their spiritual well-being.

 The New Testament is replete with warnings of the dangers of worldliness.  And while I need to take heed for my own soul first, by extension those "pieces of my heart" continue to be my concern as well.  Yes, they are mature, responsible adults, and I believe each of them is doing their best to live a godly life.  But none of us are beyond falling - if you think you are, read 1 Corinthians 10:12.

These thoughts occurred to me last month as I was reading Job.  Here was a man whom God described as one of a kind, when he told Satan, "Have you considered my servant Job?  There is no one on earth like him.  he is blameless and upright; a man who fears God and shuns evil."   And yet, Job was also a parent, and he was vitally concerned with the spiritual welfare of his grown children.  Job 1:4 tells us that, "His sons used to go and hold a feast in the house of each one on his day, and they would send and invite their three sisters to eat and drink with them.  When the days of feasting had completed their cycle, Job would send and consecrate them, rising up early in the morning and offering burnt offerings according to the number of them all; for Job said, 'Perhaps my sons have sinned and cursed God in their hearts.'  Thus Job did continually." Umbreit translates the phrase "cursed God in their hearts" as "may have dismissed God from their hearts."  In other words, Job's concern was that his children might be so overcome by the world, that God would be dismissed. Isn't that the same concern we all have for our children?  And isn't it the same concern we even have for ourselves?

Job's children were grown - they lived in their own houses.  But Job was still concerned about their spiritual welfare.  They were out of the purview of Job's authority, but he still made offerings for them to God.  Continually.  I believe that there was nothing more important to Job than his children's standing before God.

The three souls that began as human beings inside of me, as the result of choices Jeff and I made, will live eternally.  What a sobering thought.  Ultimately, each of them will make their own decision about how they will live their lives, and whether or not they will continue to serve God.  They are doing that right now - in Houston, in Irving, and in Nacogdoches.  As a stay-at-home mother, a young professional, and a nursing student.  THEY choose each day to live for Him, or to forsake His Word; to give in to temptations, or to remain pure.  And each of them will be judged accordingly - and individually - for the choices they make.  But my primary goal as their mother - the one thing that consumes my prayer time more than anything else - is to do everything within my power to see each of them, their spouses, and their children in heaven.  And so I, like Job, "make offerings" for each of them.  Continually.  And not only for them, but for my son-in-law and my granddaughter, who are also now "my children."

Meyer wrote, “What a beautiful example is furnished by Job to Christian parents! When your girls are going among strangers, and your boys into the great ways of the world, and you are unable to impose your will upon them, as in the days of childhood, you can yet pray for them, casting over them the shield of intercession, with strong cryings and tears. They are beyond your reach; but by faith you can move the arm of God on their behalf.”

What comfort.  What encouragement.  The three I love more than life itself, their spouses, and their children - along with the other children in my life whose souls I cherish - are loved by God even more than I can love them.  And He hears my prayers on their behalf.  And yours.  Growing up is hard.  Being a young adult in a godless society is difficult.  Let's all strive to be more like Job, as we pray earnestly and fervently - continually - for our children.

"We long for an affection altogether ignorant of our faults. Heaven has accorded this to us in the uncritical canine attachment." ~George Eliot

He was just a dog.  He came to live with our family in 2001, when he was about a year old, and he came with "issues."  When we tried to play with him, he would cower, and tuck his tail.  We think he was probably punished for playing as a puppy.  Jeff finally gained his trust enough that Buster would occasionally play a game of tug, but he always did so with his tail tucked - he never quite got over his anxiety in that way.

But even though he wouldn't play, he was great at cuddling.  His favorite place to be was in someone's lap, or curled up against someone's back as they slept.

He loved his kids, but they left every day and went to school.  Buster never liked to be left alone, so he soon became "my" dog - he followed me everywhere I went, always underfoot.  Sometimes I would accidentally step on him, he would yelp, but immediately come wriggling over to me, wagging his tail, as if to say, "It's ok - I know you didn't mean it!"  When I would be cooking in the kitchen, he would curl up and sleep on the mat by the sink.  He usually slept in his bed in our bathroom, but when Jeff was gone out of town overnight, Buster would curl up right next to my side of the bed, as if to say, "I don't want you to be lonely, and I'm here to protect you."

 Next to sleeping and staying close by my side, Buster's favorite thing was to go for walks.  The kids would get him all pumped up by asking him, "Do you want to go for a walk?"  And Buster would excitedly turn circles by the door until the walk ensued.

He also enjoyed getting the newspaper every morning back in the days when we subscribed to the printed newspaper.  Jeff would ask him if he was ready to go get the paper, and his reaction was the same as described above.

He was just a dog.  But he was our dog - my dog - for 15 years.  During those years, the kids grew up and left home, other dogs (and hamsters) came and went, we experienced sickness and death, joy and celebration, and Buster was there through it all.   He loved us - his family.  Whenever we would "horse around," tickling or wrestling with each other, Buster would bark and growl as if he was worried that someone was seriously getting hurt.  And no matter how long (or short) we were gone from home, Buster always greeted us on our return like it was the happiest moment of his life.

Last week we said goodbye to Buster.  He had declined in health over the past few years - he was deaf, mostly blind, and had quit eating.  He wasn't able to go on walks anymore, or even cuddle with his humans.  He slept most of the time, and when he was awake, he seemed to be uncomfortable.  He no longer ran to the door to greet us - most of the time, he wasn't even aware we had left.  So last week, we did the merciful thing, and we let him go.

Yes, he was just a dog.  An animal.  But I sure have missed him this week.  Buster taught me a lot in his 15 years.  I couldn't find the source of this quote, but think about "what a beautiful world it would be if people had hearts like dogs."  What if I enjoyed every little moment to the fullest, even something as simple as going outside to get the newspaper?  And what if a walk around the neighborhood invoked the same wonder in me?  Imagine how it might help if I could silently snuggle up with someone I love in a moment of hurt when words fail me?  Or how it might make someone feel if I quietly walked by their side in the difficulties of life?  Wouldn't it be wonderful if, when we get "stepped on" by others, we could immediately forgive, not holding a grudge, and forget - REALLY forget it ever happened?  And if we were fiercely protective of each other, think about the hurt feelings we could avoid.

Robin Davidson wrote, "The Lord in His wisdom gave us three things to make us to make life bearable; humor, hope and dogs.  But the greatest was dogs."  I think God gave us much more than that to not only make life bearable, but enjoyable.  And I'm not sure I would go so far as to say the greatest of those was dogs.  But they do have their place, and I'm thankful God gave us our four-legged, furry companions.  Especially Buster.  He was just a dog, but he served us well.  Rest easy, old friend.