The Four Greatest Words, Ever

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We love our son-in-law, Jake. Really, we do.

He’s a wonderful young man. Hard working, diligent, level-headed, thoughtful, bright, caring. A terrific father to our granddaughter, and great husband to our daughter, Emma.

But Jake doesn’t talk much. At least not to us.

To be fair, when he does talk, he has a sharp, bright, cutting wit that often leaves us laughing hysterically into our mashed potatoes around the dinner table, surprised to hear him utter such comments.

So, it was nothing less than an electric shock when my cellphone rang around 6 p.m. on March 23, 2018.

“Hello?” I answered.

“It’s me. We’re here,” Jake said plainly.

“What? Where?”

“At the hospital. Emma’s having the baby.”

“When?”

“Now.”

Background: Our oldest daughter had called earlier that day to report on the status of her routine doctor’s visit and pregnancy. She was alright at first, but her normally strong demeanor quickly dissolved into puddles of sobs.

It seemed the baby, if carried to term (about another ten days or so) would likely top the scales at ten pounds. Jake is about six feet tall. Emma is barely four feet, nine inches. The immensity of it all – especially the prospect of birthing a basketball – simply overwhelmed our girl.

After sharing the same news and crying again to her mom (my wife), she went home for the afternoon.

Then, her water broke while Jake and she watched television. As many parents learn, babies have an irritating tendency to come when they darned well feel like it.

They rushed to the hospital and his phone call, paradoxically both small and huge, soon followed.

Jake urged us to stay home and come to the hospital the next day. Emma probably wouldn’t have the baby before 8 p.m. when visiting hours ended, he warned. We followed his sage guidance.

For about three minutes.

We dove into the car and rushed to the hospital, elated to just sit there and wait. We chatted with other families, situated as close physically, spiritually and emotionally to the birth as hospital rules and locked doors would allow.

Then, Jake emerged from the maternity ward.

Dressed in blue scrubs, looking understandably frazzled and exhausted, he changed our lives for the second time in three years.

Riley Jean Williams had arrived, all eight pounds, ten ounces healthy and raring to join the world. Oh, and Emma was fine too (although the birth had been rough on her.)

We hugged and congratulated our son-in-law. We were as proud of him and grateful for his calm demeanor as the day he married Emma. He proffered a few precious details then disappeared behind the electronic doors to be with his wife.

We met and held our grandbaby the next morning, as soon as security and respect for a new mom’s need for rest and privacy allowed. The earth…well, if it didn’t exactly turn backwards, it certainly wobbled a bit for my wife and me.

We, who ourselves had started our life together only twenty-seven short years ago, a young couple desperately in love, trying to figure out the world together, scared but a little more confident holding each other’s hands, suddenly were grandparents!

And we couldn’t have been happier, prouder or more excited for a future we were already planning only hours into Riley’s new life.

Did you know babies are magicians? It’s true.

They can change sorrow into laughter. Frowns into smiles. Blustery days into kite-filled skies.

They turn lifelong, slightly paranoid grumps into giggling optimists overflowing with sparkling faith for a suddenly brighter world.

They can twist time into priceless pretzels of amazement as minutes turn to hours turn to days turn to years faster than seems possible.

One second, Riley was laying in our arms able only to eat and sleep. The next, she was chasing and yelling at me to fly her around the house, or presenting the television remote to Nana, demanding to watch “Trolls” for the fourth time that day.

Most of all, they can fill a room heavy with gray, tired routine with the glittering air of adventure.

Unconcerned about what comes next, every turn, step, sight, sound and smell is a new journey, a quest, an escapade.

An innocent ignorance of anything that might impede, endanger or limit makes it a smidge easier to look past the uncertainties and qualms darkening the Real World’s corners.

Most astonishingly, their joy becomes our joy. Every discovery through their eyes re-opens our own to the grace and mystery around us. Truly amazing.

All children – but especially grandchildren – are revelations of humanity and holiness at their purest intersection.

A book I am reading about the Gospel of John described Jesus’ impact on those who met Him this way: “Life calls to life. Love calls to love.”

I’d respectfully say that, when it comes to grandchildren, “New life calls to new life. New love calls to new love.”

Speaking of Life, the real thing recently broke in.

I am writing this over the first weekend of the governor’s two-week (so far) “stay at home” order to help fight the COVID-19/Coronavirus pandemic.

And I hate it.

To be clear, I am sincerely concerned for everyone’s physical and financial health as people (including our daughters and their families) try to figure out how to survive.

As I’ve said many times over the last three years, the economy is indeed better. But it’s not better for everyone, and not better in the same way for everyone. So, two (or four, or who knows how many) weeks without a paycheck will devastate a lot of people who aren’t part of the one percent.

However, we haven’t seen Riley in two weeks.

We missed one weekend of “Nana and Papa” duty because I had a slight touch of the flu. Then, our daughter decided to not let us see Riley until the pandemic clears. She also postponed Riley’s second birthday party, scheduled for early April.

Of course, she is right. And, like her mom, wise beyond her years.

Riley won’t know or care about missing a party now, and she will be safer for not being around a bunch of people who’d undoubtedly spend an afternoon smothering her with kisses.

Still, it breaks our hearts to give up our time with her.

Yet, thanks to our little spitfire who loves “Trolls” and “Sing”, Mike the Mouse and Poppy and Elmo and Daniel Tiger, cooking and napping with Nana and reading and playing with Papa, and petting any dog within arm’s reach, I cannot be entirely sad.

Riley Jean Williams may miss out on a few birthday gifts this year – if only temporarily. But those who love her still got the best gift of all.

And she turns two on March 23, 2020.

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