THE LULU CHRONICLES
As I write this I sit on the couch downstairs. Upstairs my twin granddaughters are napping. It’s my day with them. It started with serious ‘mommy play’. The girls began parenting all of their one thousand and forty dolls. Dressing and undressing. Feeding and putting them to bed. Followed by taking them to imaginary school. This is where it got tricky. Miraculously, the ‘mommies’ turned into schoolteachers and the doll babies got sat in rows all up and down the stairs ready for their instruction. A math teacher, a spelling teacher and something called a lunch teacher began their noble work. I personally had never heard of a lunch teacher, but this special school had one. I think I would have been very good at that position.
Then it was on to coloring with Crayons the size of large trees and Play Dough-ing. Play Dough waffles. Play Dough cookies. Play Dough rocks and Play Dough lettuce. Which after awhile made us all hungry for a tea party. As only a good grandma can, I packed a basket full of ‘goodies and tea’ and we trekked to the basement. As I coaxed my old knees under a table the height of a Smurf, I reminded the girls how a true lady drinks tea—pinkies out. Both little girls looked like they were suffering from polio as they struggled to bring their little cups to their lips with pinkie fingers in the proper position. Then it was off to old McDonalds as they call it, for cheeseburgers and a romp in the playland.
Our family life has gone on. Oh, we still miss our Papa Gary. He is still mentioned around the dinner table and in all goodnight prayers. It’s still Papa’s chair, Papa iPad, and Papa’s tractor. Heaven and what Papa is doing up there right this minute is a popular topic. And, out of the blue, it never fails that at least one little person asks per visit, if I’m happy. It seems these little ones are gifted to see behind smiles and want to know how the heart is really doing.
I honestly do not think I’d be able to face the days if I did not have tiny dimpled hands to hold. If I did not receive on a regular basis warm kisses and squishy hugs. If I could not tickle a belly of a child or snuggle in beside them in a warm bed, I don’t know what would have happened to me when my world went dark. My grandchildren are saving me one Eskimo kiss at a time. They are coaxing me back with their purity and innocence. Their plea for MeMe to come play is slowly putting my heart back together.
I am at the mercy of toddlers and ten-year-olds. Thank God for this lovely grace.
“Then Esau looked up and saw the women and children. "Who are these with you?" he asked. Jacob answered, "They are the children God has graciously given your servant."~ Genesis 33:5