So as my mother would say, 'the road to you-know-where is paved with good intentions!" And good intentions is exactly what I had yesterday about beginning my 1 Corinthians 13 reflections. However, stuff got in the way. And by stuff I mean people. Like having a great conversation with my son, then deciding to watch the BBC show "Sherlock" with him (and can I just say, brilliant!). While doing so, without even the barking fanfare our dogs usually bring, in walked E, though apparently J knew she was coming up to do laundry. About a half hour later, he got a phone call that a couple of Beve's nephews were about an hour away. Wanting to visit Grampie.
It was a great afternoon and evening. Grampie was delighted. "Pleased as punch," as he would say. We took a whole lot of photos, of course, with him front and center with those four grandchildren, proudly wearing the bib I made him for Christmas. It does have a large WSU patch on the front, so along with his Cougar slippers (which he's been known to wear inside, outside and even in bed) everyone around knows where his loyalties lie. Grampie doesn't quite know to smile for the camera anymore, so when Thyrza and Beve got in the shot, I told everyone to say, "Happy New Year!" and "Happy Birthday, Grampie!" and that did the trick. It's very like how we used to make faces for our babies to get them to smile for cameras.
There were a few moments of confusion, of course. He didn't recognize the room, didn't know it as a nursing home at all, let alone as somewhere he belonged. And he couldn't figure out what was going on in that room across the hall where a man had a TV on. Such things are too much for him now. And then there was this: one of us--Beve? Thyrza? said something about Thyrza packing. Grampie wanted to know where she was going. "She's moving back to live with S," Beve told him. The rest of us held our breaths. What if this time, he had a different reaction than he had Monday night? But Grampie never disappoints. "Good for you," he told her, patting her leg. And the outlet breath probably raised the CO level in one swoop.
We left Grampie and Thyrza soon after that. Went out for dinner with these two young men. The older one is such the spitting image of Beve, if not for his coal dark eyes (from his Hispanic mother), it's like looking at Beve 28 years earlier. Not that they're much alike apart from those superficial qualities of bone structure, but it's a little strange to me, to be honest. And even each of them can see it. Genetics is a fascinating thing, it really is.
Anyway, we had a great conversation over dinner, really talking about family dynamics and how these young people feel about their lives. I love being a part of such conversations. There's nothing better in life than sitting around a table talking getting to the heart of things with people. Long after they drove back down I-5, I was replaying the conversation. Perhaps remembering the whole evening because I know that Grampie will wake up today and likely not remember that it happened. Maybe that's what I can do for him now. Be keeper of the memories he no longer has. And I'm okay with that. Glad to do it.
And now, on with my day.
Today Beve's brother (the father of these young men) is arriving to visit Grampie. I have a hunch we might have a whole lot of family stopping by in the next few weeks--months?. And that's okay with me. More than okay. Come, family, come.
And yes, Maranatha as well. Come, Jesus, come. More than anything, we need you here.
1 Corinthians 13?
I haven't forgotten. It's percolating in me, as Beve likes to say.