When my children were young, there were always little surprises on special days.
Valentine’s Day presents were especially fun.
My husband would send a bouquet of flowers for me with five balloons attached.
He would choose a balloon for each child, knowing which one they would enjoy.

Those balloons were usually tied to the bottom of their bed.
With cathedral ceilings in areas, it was wise to keep the balloons in a room with low ceilings.
Getting the balloons on Valentine’s Day is something they remember fondly.
Now, it’s time for Grandma to think of the next generation.

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I have a triangular dinner bell that hangs on a column near my kitchen.
It was not used to call my family to dinner, since I didn’t have it then.
I actually bought it to call the women who come to my home for Bible study.
I always have coffee or tea and something baked so they can fellowship for a while.

However, I needed a way to let them know we were about to begin.
It was a gentle way to say, It’s time!
My voice was not loud enough to get their attention while they were talking to each other.
The bell had a sound that was set apart from the din of conversation.

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Father, you have blessed me with this child of my child.
I search the tiny face and see glimpses of the child I bore so many years ago.
I remember the tiny fingers that closed around mine.
I remember the rosebud mouth as I waited for that first smile.

And now I hold this little one who brings me back, yet moves me forward.
I pray for all the possibilities that You have sovereignly placed in this child.
You have a purpose for this little one that no one else can fulfill.
My grandchild has a special place in this world and a special place in my heart.

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I began to take piano lessons when I was six years old.
My fingers were just barely able to reach an octave.
That was the prerequisite for my piano teacher.
My piano teacher was British, her wavy gray hair always perfectly in position.

My mother drove me to her house every Wednesday for my 4:00 lesson.
Most times I came prepared.
Sometimes I had not practiced as I should.
My teacher always knew and I was always surprised.

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I was waiting for the package.
I received an email telling me that the package had shipped.
I received another email telling me the package would be late.
The package never came.

I kept checking the tracking number.
The package was stalled.
It did indeed ship.
It was not delivered.

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We are on a baby watch for our next grandchild. Since the soon-to-be big sister is here with us, I am re-publishing a Whisper from October 16, 2014.

When I am cooking in the kitchen, you will find me in a apron.
Not just any apron.
I love a certain kind of apron that I bought in Lancaster County.
The old fashioned kind of apron that covers well and has pockets in the front.

I have quite a few of these aprons.
With its homespun cloth, I am transported to a simpler time.
The long ties crisscross in the back and come around the front so I can tie them.
The pocket holds my glasses, which always come off when I read or do close work.

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Toddler-hood is a wonderfully exciting time.
Toddler-hood is also exhausting and not for the faint of heart.
I have been through the toddler years five times with each of my children.
I am now watching it from a different perspective with my grandchildren.

There is potty training during these toddler years.
There is training in manners.
There is training in patience, which can be a tough concept for a toddler to learn.
The world revolves around the toddler, according to them.

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We are getting work done at our house.
We have lived in this house for almost twenty-five years.
My husband maintains our home well.
The things we are doing now are mostly ascetic things.

I have always wanted better lighting in our family room.
With vaulted ceilings, I knew that recessed lights were the only solution.
We hired a remodeling company to do the work for us.
The new lighting in the family room was going to be done first.

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It is something we all take for granted.
We walk outside each day and retrieve it so we can bring it inside.
Some days we carry many things in our hands.
Some days we carry very little, with most of it ready to go in recycling.

Some people have to walk down their driveway each day to retrieve it.
Some just have to open their door.
Some only have to bend down and pick it up off the floor.
There are many ways we receive our mail each day.

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A friend and I pray together on the phone every week.
We look forward to our phone call.
We talk through things going on in our lives.
We talk about things that need prayer.

I often talk to her when I am walking.
I admit (and she already knows) that I usually have her talk when I am walking up a hill.
The hills are my time to listen.
It gives me a chance to catch my breath.

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