Brett was born with hydrocephalus, or water on the brain. He was born five weeks early, yet his head was already larger than the average newborn’s. But he looked perfect to me. His head continued to grow in such tiny increments, that if I hadn’t been daily measuring it, I wouldn’t have noticed. I got so used to the size of his head, that I remember looking around and thinking that one pin-headed baby was being born after another.

At five weeks old, he underwent brain surgery to put a shunt in to drain the water from his brain. By then, I would guess his head was about the size of an average three or four-year old’s. Yet still, in my eyes, he looked normal. When I’d take him out, I’d think, why, if it weren’t for his blindness, people wouldn’t think there was a thing wrong with him. He’s beautiful.

We didn’t take any pictures of him during those first months after his surgery, so when I recently looked at a picture that my sister-in-law had taken, my heart hurt for him. My sweet baby, with that enormous head. How could I have ever thought he looked normal?

Not long ago, I watched a movie about Barnum & Bailey’s Circus. It featured the side shows, the ‘freaks of nature” who were roped into joining the circus to get paid to get laughed at and mocked. 

Grown adults and children flocked to buy tickets to gawk at the bearded lady, the fattest woman on earth, the tiniest man, the tallest man, the werewolf man and the like. 

With a heavy heart I thought of the parents of those side show people, wondering if, like me, they’d gotten so used to how their child looked that they didn’t see them as any different than any other child. I thought of how heartbreaking it would be to see your child being made fun of. It occurred to me that my little Brett could have been a side show.

I, quite accidentally, discovered that a sense of what is “normal” is learned as early as the first few weeks of a baby’s life.

After Caitlin was born we were given a booklet that detailed her expected development. At one week she should be able to do such and such, at two weeks this, and so on. I became obsessed with that booklet, testing her, making sure she was reaching all the milestones. 

Putting away laundry one day, I happened to notice an old Mr. T mask that Bob had worn to a Halloween party. Curious to see how Caitlin would react, I put it on and knelt down to talk to her. I got my face about the distance the booklet estimated she could bring into focus, “Hey precious,” I said softly through the mask.

She let out a scream different from anything I'd heard before or since. I immediately ripped the rubber mask off my head (practically scalping myself in the process).

Bob heard the scream and came tearing in from the other room. Knowing he wouldn't understand my "experiment," I stuffed the mask underneath me and sat on it. 

“What made her scream like that?”

I looked stumped, “I have no idea,” I lied. 

I must have looked awkward holding Caitlin, trying to comfort her while keeping my bottom firmly planted on Mr. T. Unfortunately, Bob spotted a little tuft of his mohawk and demanded to know what it was. I held it up, acting baffled. What in the world?

"I can't believe you would actually want to scare a newborn baby! What is wrong with you?"

"It was an experiment…and, it turns out she’s exceptional!” Then I tried for humor, “But she may be a little racist.”

Bob was not amused—he was furious. He took Caitlin from me and left me sitting there. Whatever. An innocent experiment ruined our day.

Before children learn to disguise their faces to hide what they’re thinking or feeling, their  reactions to people like Brett run the gamut—from giggling, to pity, to fear. 

When Brett was in the hospital, my father-in-law taped these words on his bassinet, “...I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” Psalm:139:14

I don’t know why God knit Brett together in my womb the way He did, but I know he will be receiving a glorious, new body in Heaven, where nobody will look at him with anything but admiration and love. What a glorious day that will be!

I’ve never been more thankful for my job than I am today. It’s the only reason I’m able to see the kids as much as I do. I've ALWAYS been over-the-top thankful for the ability to fly for free and visit my family members frequently. They are spread across the country and we would never be able to afford monthly, or even bi-monthly, visits if not for my flying benefits. And now that I have grandchildren…Oh. My. Word! I can’t get enough of them. 

I’ve lived my whole life blissfully unconcerned about germs, so it has taken real discipline on my part to be very mindful of arriving to Caitlin’s as germ-free as humanly possible. Me! Who used to think arriving clean was a feat.

Back in December, when Caitlin and I came home from the hospital with Maisie, she (understandably!) wanted me to strip down and jump in the shower. She laundered every scrap of my clothing. Unfortunately, she shrunk my pants. I could have handled going home looking like the seams were about to burst open, but four inches too short? I looked ridiculous. Fortunately, I was able to squeeze myself into a pair of Caitlin’s. They were as tight as a drum, but only two inches too short, so I looked a tad less dorky in them than I did in the germ-free “floods” that emerged from the dryer. 

Every visit I grow more in awe of what a wonderful mother Caitlin is. It’s certainly not from following my lead. It’s only by the grace of God that Caitlin and Dane made it safely to adulthood.

Caitlin makes Brooks healthy, homemade meals, using organic, wholesome food, with lots of vitamin packed vegetables. Contrast that to Caitlin and Dane’s standard fare—Chuck E. Cheese and McDonald’s.

A few weeks ago I watched her as she prepared Brooks’ lunch. She began sautéing vegetables. I watched him, hungrily anticipating his meal.

“Mmmm, onions!”  It was palpable how eager he was to get at those onions.

As soon as she put some in his bowl, he slurped them down like my kids used to slurp down gummy worms. 

She slathered a generous amount of butter on warm toast and placed it on his plate, too, but nope, “More onions, please!”

Surely there isn’t a child on the planet who eats healthier than Brooks! He absolutely loves vegetables. The only teensy problem is is that vegetables aren’t very calorie dense, so he’s not gaining as much weight as they’d like.

When Bob and I were visiting last weekend, Caitlin and Cam told us a funny story about some of the pitfalls of Brooks’ ultra healthy cravings.

In their desire to get more calories in him they pleaded with him to eat a bowl of Puffkin’s for breakfast. He would have none of it, demanding carrots instead.

“You can have carrots after you eat your Puffkin’s,” they promised.

 What I wouldn’t give to crave carrots and celery above all else.

Watching Caitlin’s due diligence in every aspect of her mothering, I can’t help but compare it to my own mothering and how far I fell short. But by God’s glorious grace, the kids grew up not only with strong, healthy bodies but they both love the Lord with all their heart and nothing, nothing gives me more joy than knowing that.

I have to admit, as I’ve been writing, the words to this hymn have run on a constant loop in my mind:

                                 

                                                  “Grace, grace, God's grace,

                                        Grace that will pardon and cleanse within;

                                                    Grace, grace, God's Grace,   

                                          Grace that is greater than all our sin."                                                                       

   

Oh, the comfort of knowing God’s grace is greater than all my mistakes and shortcomings. It is only through Him that I’ve achieved any thing at all.

As I was watching the Super Bowl last Sunday, I was struck by what one of the commentators said: “Football is the only major sport where a player can become a highly successful athlete without ever touching the ball.” 

Winning a football game requires every player to play his own specific role with excellence. If just one position isn’t played well it can cost them the game.

If not for great offensive linemen (the ones most likely not to touch the football), the best quarterbacks are vulnerable to having hundreds of pounds breaking through the line and annihilating them. Without those talented offensive linemen, the best wide receivers wouldn’t get the chance to make spectacular catches that make the highlight reels nor would you see running backs juking and powering their way through mammoth sized players for impressive rushing yards. In fact, over the course of 54 years of Super Bowls, not one offensive lineman has ever won the Most Valued Player award. They may not share the limelight or win the MVP awards, but without them there wouldn’t be any superstars.

Just as there is no “going it alone” in football, there is no “going it alone” in the Church either. Each of us has been given specific gifts, but we all share the same goal—to add to His kingdom and build up the Church. Some gifts put people in the limelight, while others work behind the scenes to make that limelight possible

We all have God-given dreams and gifts. Often I’ve ignored His prompts to follow my dreams. Insecurities, fear of failure and criticism have held me back. But what I see as a failure, God may be using for good in ways I can’t see--may never see. If my heart and motives are right, I have to believe my strivings will be used to accomplish His purpose. 

It’s only recently that I’ve been convicted to not “go it alone” or sit on the sidelines but rather to trust God to train me to develop the gifts He gave me before the creation of the world to do good works, both in the Church and in the world around me.

“Just as each of us has one body, with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we who are many form one body, and each member belongs to the others.”  Romans 12:4-5

The minute we learned Caitlin was in labor with our first grandchild, Bob and I hopped on a flight to New York. We rushed to the hospital in downtown Manhattan—arriving the very minute Brooks was born. 

It would be several hours before we actually got to see him because mom and dad needed plenty of skin on skin time. I was biting at the bit to see that baby, ready to strip down myself if necessary. The minute we did get the green light, I literally ran down the hall and wept with Caitlin over the miracle of a perfect baby boy. 

A scant 23 months later, we were once again ready to drop everything and fly to Washington DC to welcome our new granddaughter into the world. I bid 15 days off in a row, praying each morning that that would be the day. Alas, the fifteenth day came and went with no news of her impending arrival and I had to return to work. I’d chosen the trip because it had a layover in Phoenix (to see Dane) and one in Washington (to see Caitlin).

The morning we left Phoenix to head to Washington, I received a text that Caitlin was heading to the hospital. In mere hours, I would be there! My heart surged with gratitude. Thank you, Lord, for Your divine, perfect orchestration!

This time I didn’t arrive at the hospital the minute Maisie arrived, by I did get to hold her within hours of her birth--to marvel over the miracle of another beautiful, healthy grandchild.

I shared in an earlier post about the harrowing days we experienced when I returned to DC ten days later, but I didn't mention Brooks’ reaction to me when I peeked my head around the curtain at the hospital. The big, wide grin he gave me was the highlight of my week, ok, maybe month. 

Not unexpectedly, Brooks hasn’t been thrilled about sharing the limelight with Maisie. On my last visit, every time I picked her up he told me to put her back down.

I don’t think Brooks knows quite what to make of his rambunctious Nana. As soon as I get there I tell him I want to ride “Buck,” his rocking horse. Buck is literally about a foot tall and two feet wide. If I was tech savvy, I would insert a picture of his mini rocking horse. Never-the-less, I manage to wedge myself onto him.

“Yee-haw! Giddy-up Buck!”

Brooks stands there grinning in wonder that a grown-up can really have that much fun riding Buck.

I chase him endlessly around the house, often popping my head around corners and scaring him, making him scream and laugh at the same time. I’m not sure who laughs the hardest, but I’m pretty sure it’s me.

I whip the throws off the back of their sofas and make a fort—forgetting how much fun it is getting in and out, in and out, and in and out of a fort.

Caitlin wisely bought Brooks a baby of his own. She sent a video of him taking care of his baby. He aggressively smacks his back before making a loud burping noise. He tries giving him a pacifier, but quickly decide’s it’s not cutting it and so lifts his shirt and holds the baby's mouth against his belly button for milk. He’s pretty patient to hold him there long enough for his baby to get his fill.

When we FaceTime with him he sings songs and hymns—he knows every word! Perfect pitch and rhythm. After our enthusiastic applause, he’ll sing them again and again. 

Though I’d give anything to live close and see them more, I am over-the-top grateful for a job that allows me to fly in for the day and laugh uproariously with Brooks and snuggle, stare in awe, and take in the heavenly, newborn scent of Maisie.

“Children’s children are a crown to the aged…” Proverbs 17:6