“Hurry, Baby, we have to get out of here before the snow gets worse,” said Roger to Ashlyn as they went out the door. Sammy and I stood in the door watching them go. Ashlyn hurried along beside her “Haw-Hee.” Haw-Hee, that’s Granddad Roger. I said to Sammy, “There goes the second and fourth generation.” The Bible talks about our effect to the third and fourth generation at which point we can only continue to influence through the influence we have passed on to the second and third generations. How blessed I am to be influenced by Godly ancestors; how blessed I am to see their influence passed on to precious ones I love! Hear me rejoice as I review the snippets of my week-end with my four-year-old great-grand Ashlyn. “Grandma, can you put this on my doggie,” as she passes me the pink leash and white doggie. “Grandma, can I have some chocolate milk,” as she opens the refrigerator. “Grandma, can I play with your kindle,” as it is already opened in her hand. What child-like faith as she is always expecting that her answer will be “Yes.” But it is not always “Yes”; she didn’t get an okay about watching TV when we went to bed, so she flipped out of my bed. In the semi-dark, I saw her go to a stack of blankets, get one and lay down on the treadmill. I waited quietly. After about five minutes (seemed so long), she loudly whispered, “Grandma, Grandma,” as her head lifted slowly above my mattress. I quietly reached out my hand to her, she took it and climbed back in bed. Sweet snuggles. But the highlights of my time with her go like this: “Grandma, know what?” “No, what, Baby?” “I love you,” she says. “Ashlyn, know what?” “No, what, Grandma?” “I love you,” I say. I see why Jesus wants us to become like a little child. “Jesus, know what?” “I love you,” I say. Listen carefully. Do you hear, “I love you too, my child.”
I want to pay tribute to wonderful people I have known, the wonderful country in which I live, the communities in which I have lived, the churches who have claimed me as their own, the God who sends shivers down my back when I really give him a portion of my time—well, maybe not shivers but tears flow easily in some of those most priceless times.
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