Nana Holds From Coffee Hour @ Chicklit Power

Welcome to Coffee Hour @ Chicklit Power and thanks so much for taking time to come have coffee with me. Grab your coffee and come on in.
Before I get back to where we left off, let me ask you a question; it’s one that I answered one way in the beginning months of becoming Mama/Nana, and now can honestly answer it another way: Who is more “blessed,” the woman/man who has much, struggles little and has no need for a relationship with Christ, or the woman/man who has less in the way of monetary things, struggles quite often but has this consistent joy, this untouchable peace?

See, in the first few months, I was asking “why” every bit as much as I was seeking Him for the “how.” One of those times I asked why and how came the second week. We were taking a walk around the neighborhood, one of the ways we were learning how to help Bryden spend some of that energy that I so wish I could bottle for George and me, because if I could, I’d be downing a big drink of it toward the end of the day. It’s like about 5:00 or thereafter, my energy has taken flight and it doesn’t return until the next morning! (Now, at about 3:00, I pray for strength for the next shift, the final shift of the day!) Anyway, we had all three of our four-legged kids – both of ours and Bryce’s big four-legged child – and we would attempt to let Bryden take one of the leashes and off we’d go.

We would go down our street, left at the end and head up that street which dead-ends at the golf-course. The first time we did this as we got closer and closer to the golf course, Bryden became more antsy and unsettled and then as we began to pass it, suddenly, out of nowhere, he stopped and began to cry with everything in him. George and I stopped in our confusion and his word collided with my realization of where his sorrow was coming from simultaneously.

See, he and his daddy used to always take a walk with the little red wagon. Bryden would be in the wagon and daddy would pull him; that is until they got to the golf course. Then Bryden would get out and they would both down into the ravine, looking for the golf balls that had erroneously disappeared from a golfer’s view and had gathered down in the wash/ravine. It was like a gold mine down there.

For Bryden, it was ball heaven because his very favorite thing is balls, golf balls, soccer balls, basketballs, baseballs, and let me tell you, he has a God-given talent when it comes to hitting and/or kicking them. Then they would gather them all up and put them in the wagon and make their way back home. A successful hunt was five to ten and an okay night was one to three, but no matter how many they found, Bryden was super thrilled. And we had to keep every one of them. Some went in his toy box in the family room, some in a glass container on the counter in his bathroom, some upstairs in his room, and of course, a few got left in the wagon.

Well, there we were trying to pass the golf course but stopped dead in our tracks. I bent down to reach for him just as he cried out “Daaaaa-deeee. I want my daddy.” I hurried to scoop him into my arms. As I felt my heart break, my mind asked why. Why does a little one have to endure so much sorrow? How does a little one endure so much sorrow and how do I do this, God? How? Somebody show me how.

We began to walk again with me holding him while he cried for a couple of minutes. And as we got away from the place that reminded him of his daddy, he calmed down, and he wanted down. As if it had never happened, he took Sparky’s leash and scurried down the sidewalk and it was all we could do to keep up with him. Inwardly, I was marveling at the new insight I had just received: God had made this little guy tough, resiliently tough and somehow, some way, we were all going to get through this circumstance.

Join me Monday for more of Nana holds, and we’ll return to that question I began our time with today.

Confidently,

Evinda