Do you remember when you turned 10, when you started writing your age with two digits? I was in Canada, staying with some kind people that took me in while my parents toured in the United States. Or maybe I had my birthday before they left on their preaching tour. Canada was a six-months stop on our way to Peru where my father would become the first Swedish missionary there. Here I am on the boat, traveling to our new destination.
A little girl with braided hair. Either that or a pony tail. And now my grandson David has reached two digits. My daughter tells me he was so excited he could hardly sleep last night. This morning he fixed himself scrambled eggs and awaited excitedly the exact moment he would turn ten! His “twin” sister is not ten yet, because she was born several hours later.
Before the children knew Lana was adopted, David would say, “Mom had to stay a long time in the hospital so Lana could be born!”
Here I am at some of the most precious moments in my life. Holding my first grandchild was a feeling only grandparents can describe. For me it was probably more special, because I felt (literally) how the hole in my heart closed; the hole my daughter left when she went to be with the Lord. In the center picture I’m holding David’s mother and on the right is the proud and happy moment after Lana had been adopted.
I was hoping to give them each a big hug today, but I won’t be able to travel. I’m recurring to honey, cinnamon, apple cider vinegar, ginger, lemon… all of that good stuff to shove the cold out the door. It’s not fun to be invaded with germs!
But I had fun putting together pictures of the birthday kids. Now I have to work on getting to feel better so I can go and give them the big “One O” birthday hug.