Children’s children are a crown to the elderly.
Helping my eldest son with his two children proved to be taxing. Exhausted as I climbed the stairs to help with the baby, I prayed, “God please help me this morning. Give me the strength I need to be of service.”
“I’m on it,” God said as He nudged the sun up over the horizon.
“Thank you. I’m not a spring chicken anymore.”
“I know. But you can still dance,” God said.
“I don’t want to dance. I want to sit here on the couch and hope that the baby isn’t too fussy,” I explained.
“Oh, but you really do want to dance,” God answered, His eyes twinkling.
“What are you up to, God?” I asked.
“Come on, dance with me,” God said with a smile, and pulled me off the couch and into the room.
We danced in the early light, God twirling me by the hand. When He dipped me, my heart did a little cartwheel.
“There now, ready to take care of the baby?” He asked when we were done.
I laughed. “More than ready. Dancing with you is good medicine,” I replied.
“You can dance with me any time, Sparrow,” He said tenderly. “I always know the steps to lighten your heart.” Just then my son came into the den and put my precious grandson in my arms.
“Yes, you do God,” I whispered. I looked into the baby’s eyes and saw God’s love shining up at me.