As we prepare for the arrival of our daughter and granddaughters, one more thing can always be done. I remember my mom preparing the house for holidays when my sister and brothers had their own homes, so now visited ours. I did not understand the fuss over getting everything clean or “just right” because they had lived in the space when it was not so. Still, mom insisted on dusting, vacuuming and cleaning everything. I asked her not to make such a fuss for me when I inevitably moved out and returned home. I don’t think she listened.
I get it now – wanting the space to be inviting because we want the kids to come back, to enjoy the space, to associate our home with welcome, fun, love. It becomes obvious the kids have many more activities and interests grappling for their time and they do not have to spend any of it with us. Like my friend’s post a few weeks ago declared, once the kids leave at 18, assuming they can and do, our time with them becomes sparse indeed. When they return, our home needs to have something all the other activities don’t, so we specialize in comfort, cleanliness, food, play and (hopefully) a lot of love communicated in a myriad of ways.
The question on the Lent card today is “where do you need healing?”
I know a fair number of grandparents who live close enough to be babysitters, Little League carpoolers, dance rehearsal chauffeurs and on-call overnight hosts. They see their grands regularly and fall into a pattern with them. Inside jokes and knowing glances grace their interactions. A single expression translates a book of dialogue due to years of spending regular time with each other.
J and I do not live close enough to any of our grands for that depth of ease or knowing. I don’t know if it is something which needs healing, but it is a distance which I pray will be closed with each visit, each game played, each meal shared, each book read aloud. And maybe having the bookshelves dusted, the floors vacuumed and the bathrooms clean will help a little, too.
3/18/26
No comments:
Post a Comment