Saturday, September 8, 2007

Dear God,

I spent the morning in bed resting while watching two movies with my granddaughter. Secret Garden and The Little Princess. How fun to watch Secret Garden with Gabrielle. She loved the intrigue and kept asking questions hoping for answers before they were revealed in the movie. I never told her anything. "Grandma!" She would bark.

Gabrielle, seven years old, and I talk. She's young enough and interested enough in talking with me. She shares her feelings and thoughts, doubts, fears, and concerns. I'm grateful to be trusted to hold her inmost thoughts.

When I told her I needed to write you, she took hold of my arm and said, "Grandma, write about us being together and having fun." I made no promises but the precious time we spend together is worthy to write about.

This precious little child trusts me so much. Sharing with me about her new brother was a prized moment. She's still not quite sure about him. But when I asked her if she wanted to take him back to the hospital, she wrinkled her face and cried out, "Grandma, no. I love him." "You do?" I asked. "Yes!" She said emphatically. I guess she's already moved through the crisis.

I am blessed to share this time, time that will never come again, time, a precious commodity. The time we are spending together is making memories to share later on. I have kidded Gabrielle about my getting older. She assures me that I will never be too old for her, although she doesn't like to think about me getting older and older. In her mind, I will be forever young and silly and crazy. She loves me that way.

When we talked in the car as I drove to another grandchild's birthday party later in the day, we were talking about how we know we are loved. Gabrielle put up her little pinky finger and smiled. "Remember, Grandma?" She asked me. "Of course!" I said to her. "Your pinky finger was my first paci." She reminded me. I remember well.

Memories
are made
of pinky fingers,
popcorn,
sleeping bags,
movies,
silly dances,
Go Tell it on the Mountain,
seaglass,
made-up stories,
ketchup on eggs,
and everything else,
open-eyed prayers,
floor picnics,
singing in the car,
and laughing like crazy.
Blessed.

Love, Andrea