Mimi's Gift

Four days ago we inherited a piece of furniture from our daughter and son-in-law—a rocking chair. 

My husband and I had purchased the rocking chair for them 20 months earlier when our granddaughter, Yetzy, was born. For 20 months I had the utmost privilege of rocking Yetzy to sleep in her rocking chair. The dark sanctuary of her bedroom held no sound except the sound of Mimi singing and the constant “creak, creak, creak” of the chair. 

Yetzy seldom resisted nap time. Instead, she snuggled into my lap with her tattered blanket which at one time had been her mama’s blanket. As she grew older, from time to time she would sing along with me, her voice so sweet and perfectly out of tune. Eventually she was unable to resist the rhythmic rocking of the chair. Peaceful and perfect she slept in my arms knowing that when she awoke, Mimi would still be holding her. For the better part of an hour and a half we rocked. The world outside Yetzy’s bedroom came to a halt during which time my own spirit learned to rest; and during which time I also learned how to receive God’s love like never before through the gift of the little girl snuggled in my arms.

Although no stranger to rocking a baby, having given birth to three beautiful girls, I often allowed the pressures of a young mother to shorten the hours dedicated to the gift of rocking. Now, with experience gleaned from a longer road behind me, I am able to see God’s gift more clearly through eyes blessed with insight (and a plentiful supply of "laugh" lines!).  As a grandmother, what a joy it is to place the world on pause and enjoy what’s happening in the moment in the sacred space of my granddaughter’s bedroom.

My prayer to understand God’s love in a deeper way is answered with each creak of the chair. He shows me His love through Yetzy’s innocent lack of boundaries, through her bountiful kisses and hugs, through her pure joy in the simple moments. All these memories I ponder as I watch her sleep in my arms.

Creak, creak, creak.

His love reaches me through Yetzy’s excitement and sheer delight each time she sees “Mimi and BaBa” (Aka: Grandpa). His love tears down my own walls of self-protection as I watch Yetzy’s ability to love and trust completely—total dependence with no fear. “I should love this way too,” I think to myself. He longs for us to trust Him fully, every detail of our lives entrusted to His care. He will never ignore us, push us away, nor wish we would learn how to live more independent of Him. 

God IS Love. 

Peter reminds us not once, but twice, in the book of I Peter, "Love one another DEEPLY." He doesn't say to just "love one another" but rather to "Love one another DEEPLY." Our children and grandchildren teach us how to love deeply. But we are to love others deeply too—just as Jesus loves each one of us deeply. 

Four days ago our daughter, son-in-law and granddaughter moved from Alaska to the lower 48, thousands of miles away from Mimi and BaBa. Which is why Yetzy’s rocking chair is now in our bedroom. 

Yesterday, I decided to sit in the rocking chair for the first time without Yetzy in my arms. I wondered what it might feel like to rock alone. 

Creak, creak, creak.

There are no adequate words to express the depth of emotion which hit me the second the familiar creak filled the room. My empty arms floundered like a fish out of water, feeling like foreign objects attached to my body. The floodgate of emotions broke.  I wept unashamedly from a heart finally able to understand what loving deeply feels like.  

Grabbing my pillow, I held it with all my strength, feeling sadness permeate every part of my being to the same depth with which I had been able to also feel the love. I knew that God, who loves this little girl more than me (as impossible as that is to imagine!) was now embracing me with every creak of the chair. For an hour and a half  I stayed the course, embracing the sadness. Creak, creak, creak. I sang over Yetzy across the miles.  I prayed like never before for God to wrap His arms around her and to keep her safe in His care during our time of physical separation. Even in the Valley of Sadness I knew I could trust Him. 

But mostly I thanked Him for one of the greatest gifts He has ever given to me and my husband—His beautiful display of love and beauty wrapped in a package, both messy and perfect, marked: “GRANDDAUGHTER.”

Stay the Course…

Sheila