Meeting Isaac, Our Grandchild Of Laughter
It's funny how making a schedule really doesn't have much to do with life, especially when that life belongs to a newborn baby.
It was a cold, grey Friday afternoon when my husband and I packed up our car -- loading it with clothing, gifts, groceries and our two dogs -- and headed west.
We hit a long patch of black ice on a highway in Illinois, and then settled in for the night in a toasty-warm motel room the other side of St. Louis.
The next day, we drove more than nine hours to the little town of Shamrock, Texas; and that Sunday morning we headed for Gallup, N. M.
When we arrived, we unpacked our car hoping for a relaxing evening and a good night's sleep.
On Monday morning we planned to make the five-hour drive to my daughter's home in Phoenix. She was nine-months pregnant, and we planned to spend the next two weeks with her, our son-in-law and our two granddaughters -- waiting for the baby to arrive.
How hard does God laugh when we make plans?
About four in the morning, we received THE call from our son-in-law. Katie was in labor. They were driving the girls to a friend's house, and then heading to the hospital.
How fast can you pack? Pretty fast when a baby is on the way.
We drove for an hour under a pitch black sky, getting texts from Brad with updates about the contractions. And then we received this two-word text, "He's here."
Suddenly, unexpectedly, there were tears of joy about the arrival of the newest member of our family.
Arizona is a gorgeous place; but as the sun rose we were too busy texting, phoning and trying to get directions to the hospital to pay much attention to God's handiwork in the desert.
At the hospital, I got out of our car and walked into summer. I found balmy temperatures and flowers in full bloom, but nothing compared to entering my daughter's hospital room and seeing her sitting there, beautiful and glowing.
And meeting Isaac, our grandchild of laughter. His name recalls the words of Abraham's wife Sarah who said at the birth of her son, “God has brought me laughter."
Newborn babies bring such joy. And to grandmothers they bring sweet memories of our own babies and the lost days of our youth. I'm pretty sure that's been true since Moses was a baby in Egypt. Probably even before that.
During the last four years, I have discovered that when I gaze into the eyes of a newborn grandchild, and when that baby gazes back, I enter a sacred universe. Suddenly the details of this world swirl around me, becoming just a blur and largely unimportant.
Today, Isaac is a week-old, and I know two things as I sit and hold him. I know I won't complete the journey with him, and I know he will always have my prayers.
