MY NIECE’S son’s wife has just given birth to their third child (and only boy), whom they have fondly named Caleb Jacob. Great family news, this is indeed.
Surely, one which my late and beloved parents in the misty lands must have already known beforehand because they always get all the good news first in heaven.
I just wonder how different their happiness would be if, physically, they were here to celebrate this addition to the clan with all of us; along with their remaining five children, 20 grandchildren, 22 great-grandchildren, and now, seven great-greats.
I cannot imagine what a great and wondrous Sunday get-together lunch would be in the works if that were only possible! However, such is life. Along with whatever great news or blessings we receive, we must likewise accept what else is handed out to us. Shikata ga nai, as the Japanese would say.
I will never forget, though, what my mom had said during one Sunday afternoon when she was still with us.
Amazed at the number of apos and great-grandchildren in the old house, plus the fact that we were celebrating the arrival of a newborn that particular day, she told me, “This is a happy house,” also adding that almost yearly, we never seem to run out of babies.
Quite differently and bittersweet, too, one might also assume a herald of babies has a salving effect on our tragedies in a way.
When our youngest brother Mandy died in ’96, we later learned that seven moms in our family were expecting babies the following year.
Then last year, we lost our sweet niece living in the US. Even in this still-lingering grief, light shines through our cracks, and I can only put it this way: God may bring His children home, but He sends us others to take their place.
At this present time, I can only watch all those younger in the clan’s brood grow. I’m likewise excited about how our parents’
now-seven great-greats will travail their paths ahead.
However, I may have already discovered the hidden Mickey in old age, and no worries, really. That may change, but for now, I’ll passively watch life’s parade go by, accept the changes of the brave new world, and gladly welcome the new.
In a sense, this is why the pitter-patter of tiny feet once more is a most wondrous thing for old ears. Not merely for sentimental reasons, mind you. Those baby steps might as well be complete acceptance of what lay ahead, beyond the range of my own tiring feet.
In the end, I just like to say, in pretty much the same way parents may find delight in their baby’s unsteady gait towards them, they must be ready to accept that those very same steps will head in the opposite direction when the day comes.
Happy Grandparents Day!
