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