We sat across the table from one another. I brought a gala apple to share on the day of my sixtieth birthday. I was happy to be with my three-year-old granddaughter. Her parents were out to celebrate their wedding anniversary and took Lilly's baby brother, Jonathan. He would need to nurse frequently, so it was just us. We felt the closeness of our compainionship, and Lilly said it best in her articulate fashion: "Minou (my grandmotherly title), we get to be alone together."
And so we talked between crunches of the sweet apple. Lilly told me her favorite color is pink, and when she goes to the playground, her favorite thing to do is slide. She exclaimed, "I just love to feel the wind on my face and have my hair blow back."
For moments we sat saying nothing and then I said to her, "Lilly, tell me more about your views on God." "Well," she said, "I love God, and I hug him. "How do you hug him?" I asked. She smiled, lifted her shoulders and placed her petite palms face up. "Well, I just go up to heaven and give him a hug."
This wisdom brought joy to me. God and hugs. This made sense. A freedom to approach God and provide a hug and know that he returns the embrace.
As I think about what may be ahead in this new decade, I feel excitement. I wouldn't go back, although I wouldn't mind some of benefits of youth--that elastic skin and the ability to stay thin--no gray hair. Yet this place where I am now--the wisdom I've accumulated, the life experience, the peace of mind, the walk with God unfolding more and more gloriously--is a spot to cherish. I look forward to what lies ahead. I wrote in my journal:
Crossed the line into the good life.
Sixty years--my blessngs spill and overflow.
Youth renewed. Joy replete.
No gray shadows or rumbling drums like thunder.
Only God's grace and the scent of the sea.
Our apple was gone and quickly the subject changed as it will with three-year-olds. "Minou, let's watch Elmo on your phone." And so we did.