On Saturday mornings we have a standing breakfast date with our daughter. We never know if it will be just her, or if breakfast will also include her husband, our granddaughter and her boyfriend. A few weeks ago, our granddaughter joined us, which I absolutely LOVE!
At that particular breakfast, a memory, found in a file I’d written in October 2000, when Emma was three and a half, was fresh on my mind:
Dear Emma,
Today was a beautiful fall day, warm with lots of sunshine streaming through beautiful fall leaves. I came home from volunteering at the hospital around 3:30 and just had to get you out for a while.
All I said was, “who wants to go down to the coffee store for a cookie”. I didn’t need to ask twice. Right away, you said, “I do!” and we were off.
We took your wagon, already filled with Winnie the Pooh and your stuffed flounder, added a couple of books (which you never looked at the whole trip) and left. I pulled for a good part of the way there.
At the coffee store we bought you a lemonade and a cotton candy cookie which you finished in no time. We took a different way back, which took us past the animal hospital. You thought a hospital for animals was the silliest thing. We were lucky enough to have a man drive up, his very unhappy dog in tow. What doggie wants to go to the vet? The dog was whining and pulling away, which led to a conversation about how you didn’t like going to the doctor either, and could understand how that doggy felt.
The way home
was so much fun! You alternated between
sitting in and pulling the wagon. While
pulling the wagon, many stops had to be made, sometimes to sip your lemonade,
and others to collect the beautiful fall leaves. Especially pretty ones were stored in a
little compartment under one of the wagon seats. The most wonderful giggles erupted from you
as you walked through, rolled through, and threw the crunchy, dried brown
leaves.
You found a
tiny green inchworm, but didn’t quite grasp the concept of handling it “gently”
with your chubby little fingers.
Eventually you “lost” him, but I wondered whether the little guy ever
again saw the light of day!
Several times you stopped to climb and jump off a few fire hydrants we passed along the way.
Collecting pine cones, which eventually would be covered in peanut butter for the birds, covered your hands in “sab” (sap), but you didn’t seem to mind.
The way back home included a detour to pet the neighbor’s dog before a stop in the garage to collect your tricycle and ride. Riding your bike led to our usual game of “gas station”. You drove up to the “attendant” (me), and asked me to fill it up with “the regular”. I also needed to do some repair work on your tires. After that, I played traffic cop for a while, directing you and other imaginary cars, until it began to get dark and chilly and time to go inside.
At the end of the day, I found myself asking the Lord’s forgiveness for all the complaining I do about my current lot in life - helping your Mom through school and not being free to make my own choices for my time at this stage of life.
Yes, there is some sacrifice, but with it comes the blessing of these very precious times with you, Em. I’ll cherish every one, as I did years ago, when I did these very same things with your mom. There just isn’t anything quite as special. I’m one blessed Grammie.
Emma is now 22, and I still can’t wait to see her and hear all about what’s going on in her life. Listening to her stories about work, birthday plans, and how she’s going to decorate her new apartment, give me the same sense of joy I had back when she was finding excitement in fall leaves and riding her trike.
I love it when the Lord uses moments like that as a teaching opportunity. It wasn't long after that breakfast with Emma that our pastor preached a sermon on Psalm 35 and I was struck by the last phrase of verse 27:
(The Lord) delights in the welfare of
His servant.
I have been going through a bout of depression. It’s not my first, and may not be my last. If you’ve ever been depressed, then you know it’s hard to find joy, even in the things you love.
On one of the nights when sleep eluded me (not uncommon with depression), I found myself thinking about that verse and applying it to myself.
The Lord
delights in your welfare, Dot.
What does that mean, I thought, in this place where I cannot FEEL His delight? And then I thought of how I feel about Emma.
I delight in her now just as I did when she was three and a half.
I delight in her when she makes decisions or forms opinions I don’t like.
I delight in her when she wants to spend time with me and when I haven’t seen or heard from her in weeks.
I delight in her when she receives honors.
I delight in her when things are going badly.
I delight in her because I love her. That will never change.
And that’s exactly how the Lord delights in me, even when depression distorts my feeling that He does.
In the New Testament book of Romans, chapter 8, the Apostle Paul says this:
I am persuaded that neither death nor
life, nor angels nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present nor things
to come, not height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to
separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
I may not be in a place where I can find joy in my usual activities, (unless they include Emma!) but one thing I know – I CAN find joy in the truth – that God delights in me because I belong to Him – and He is invested in my welfare.
Depression is not an indication that He has forgotten me, or ceased to love me, or is busy elsewhere.
God delights in me and my welfare. That is enough to hang onto for this season.
