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Proverbs 8:17 “I love those who love me; And those who diligently seek me will find me.”

Call me a crazy grandma, but I don’t care.

Grandma withdrawal symptoms rumbled beneath the surface following an out-of-town training school. Practicality dictated that I unpack, go through the four-day stack of mail. A walking tour of the farm yard revealed that warm, sunny days had urged many of the perennials out of hibernation.

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The sunny yellow faces of dandelions and grass had shot up out of control. Just a few days before, my granddaughter had tried to pick bouquets for all the mothers and found only one bloom for each of us. This evening she could have found arm-loads.

However, it was near bed-time so I squelched the rumblings.

In the morning, paperwork surrounded my desk, covering the surface and spilling over to the kitchen counter. My granddaughters were off to pre-school and daycare, and though I missed them, again I submerged the calling to be with them.

Soon the lunch hour rolled on by, errands uptown multiplied and expanded.  By now, though I missed my granddaughters, the “to do” list from the whole week seemed to matter.

“I’ll just stop over for a few minutes, and then go on home.” I persuaded myself.

When I walked in the door the only one that was thrilled at our reunion was their daddy.

“Say, I want to take L out for supper and a little shopping. Would you watch the girls?”

My heart-strings began to vibrate again. “Can I take them to the farm with me?”

“That’s OK with me.  We’ll stop about bedtime to pick them up.”

So we packed the “jammies” and cuddly blankets, a few diapers, burp cloths and off to the farm we headed.

It was too cool and windy to pick those bouquets, so we played a favorite “I Spy” game, finagled some puzzles to completion, sang and danced, made and ate a simple meal. By then the baby was ready for a bottle, so we snuggled on the couch and read some stories. Grandma isn’t so good at holding the baby, a bottle and turning book pages, so the barely five-year old watched for cues to turn the pages.

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We read about a messy room and cleaning it up. For a bit, we talked about how hard it can be to put away the things we are playing with before we go on to something else. Then from seemingly no-where, this sweet, old soul in a little-girl body murmured, “I wish that I’d had more time to spend with my other old grandma.”

Caught unaware, I scavenged for space to reflect, as well as clarify whom she meant.

“The old grandma in the nursing home, who died.  I just didn’t get enough time to play with her.”

She was talking about my mom, who three years ago had a tumor removed from her brain and opted to live with joy and delight, rather than search for medical intervention to add to the length of her days. My mom had loved to play shadow tag with her and say the poem by Robert Louis Stevenson “I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me….” Often they would sing “Jesus Loves Me” and “This Little Light of Mine.”

Those visits were pure joy for my mom.

And now I had the chance to reinforce that pleasure for my granddaughter.

How many times I have allowed time and lists to rob me of special conversation with my heavenly Father? Do I seek Him? Do I diligently make time in my day for those revelations that come when I slow down and really listen?

This crazy grandma slowed down for an evening on five-year-old time.  And as so frequently happens, I received the blessing.

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