I read once that grandchildren are God’s way of compensating us for growing older. I will personally vouch that being a grandma is one of the sweetest parts of my 50-something life.
I’m up to 6 grandkids now, though when you have seven kids that number can change at any moment!
What do I love about it? I love getting the chance to do things differently, the way I wished I had done them as a mom. I love revisiting the wonder on a child’s face as the huge Christmas tree in the shopping plaza is lit for the first time. I love seeing the world through their untainted eyes, when a common daisy becomes a miracle. And I love that when I’m with them, my only responsibility is to simply be with them. I get wonderfully tired when I do, and then get to go home to a good night’s sleep.
The only part I don’t like? My three granddaughters all live out-of-state. Only my three grandsons, Isaac, Ryder and Asher, live nearby.
At four-years-old, Isaac is the oldest of my grandkids. He loves people—the more the merrier—and loves to turn strangers into friends. That boy exudes joy!
Ryder is three, and reminds me so much of his dad at that age that a sense of déjà vu is inevitable. He is curious, funny, mischievous, and smart.
Asher is only one, and his biggest goal in life is to keep up with his brothers. Please do not try to convince him that he can’t, because he will prove you wrong!
Every time I drive the 15 miles to their house, I can’t wait to get there. I think of what their faces will look like when they see me walk in the door—that flash of recognition followed by joy. I look forward to that first hug as they rush to me, and the fun of playing with them. At the end of the evening, I look forward to snuggling with them as they wind down before going to bed.
When I get to their front door, I knock. My heart quickens in anticipation. Sometimes neither my son, Stew, nor my daughter-in-law, Annie, hear that first knock. I understand. Boys tend to make a lot of noise. Sometimes I will just stand and listen to the noise and those little voices that I love so much.
But I always knock again, a little louder. I want them to open that door so I can be with them!
Sometimes, I even have to knock a third time.
I really don’t care how many times I knock before they answer. I’m going to stand there and keep knocking until eventually someone answers the door. And once that door opens, the fun will begin!
Jesus, too, stands at the door and knocks. It is the door of our hearts. Even if we have already responded to Him initially for salvation, He continues to knock, wanting to come in more fully and more completely, and to enter the deeper parts of our heart.
Sometimes life creates so much noise, so much commotion that we just don’t hear Him.
But He keeps knocking.
Or sometimes we do hear Him, and ignore His knock. Because we are busy. Because we know He wants more of us. Because we know if we let Him in, He will have something to say about what goes on.
So He keeps knocking. And He will keep knocking until we answer. Because He loves us, and He knows, even if we don’t, how wonderful it will be when we let Him in.
Father, I want those you have given me to be with me where I am, and to see my glory, the glory you have given me because you loved me before the creation of the world. John 17:24
Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me. Revelation 3:20
- Do you take the time to listen carefully when Jesus knocks on the door of your heart?
- What are some things that make it hard—by circumstance or by choice—to hear Him?
- What do you think would change in your life if you chose to listen more carefully?
Father, I’m sorry for the times I tell myself I am too busy to slow down and listen for Your knocking. I’m sorry that sometimes I choose to ignore Your voice. Thank You that You persistently, patiently, and perfectly wait for me to listen to You, and that You delight in the fellowship we share.