Tip of My Iceberg

The family has slowly drifted away from the wedding festivities to their own homes and routines.

Except for my son and his two oldest boys.

He has another wedding he needs to participate in, and the coming and going again wasn’t working. They’ve hunkered here for a short while. And the boys are getting used to their “other” Nana and Papa.

They are up close and personal with my daughter-in-law’s parents in Pennsylvania. Familiarity breeds trust with kids, and they love their northern Papa and Nana. They’d lived in Austin since the three boys were born, not geographically close to either set of grandparents, so the move north was not only positive for their new business but an encouragement to their family.

John and I, on the other hand, are a bit more unknown to them. They know us and recognize voices by our FaceTime calls, but you can’t cozy up to a picture. Even if it’s talking to you.

With the frenzy of the wedding, people coming and going, cousins they hadn’t seen showing up, a whole new level of expectations settled on their young shoulders.

Anyone can lose themselves in a crowd, even if it’s a crowd of relatives. Lots of laughter and noise, questions asked and answered. Distractions became the norm.

For a short while.

The house has settled. We’re approaching doable normalcy, and we all can slow down a bit.

This is where I’ve seen their hesitancy.

I’m an easy-going person. Kids tend to like me. But my grandsons aren’t sure of me yet. A point made clear when my son left the room to take a shower and the younger of the two boys took off after him, crying, “Don’t leave me!”

I understand what it’s like to be uncomfortable with someone. Getting used to new roommates in college. Moving into new neighborhoods. It’s hard to be all in when I’m not sure if my all in is acceptable. Will they like me? Do I want to like them?

That’s how I began my relationship with God. More than a little fearful of what He could do. He is God after all. Aware that I wasn’t always doing things right. Conscious of my rough areas.

I didn’t know Him. I had a picture in my head of an angry, white-haired, very strong, large man throwing thunderbolts at the things He didn’t like. (Too many Disney movies.)

People I knew and trusted loved Him well. I chose to invest time to get to know Him. To read the Bible and see for myself what He said about Himself. It was easy to discredit someone else’s beliefs, but I had nothing to base disbelief on till I checked Him out myself.

I found God to be good. Trustworthy. Full of love. History and the Bible have explained who He is, how Jesus walked the earth, the reality of His death and resurrection.

Time with Him, though, has made Him more real to me than anything people could say.

If my grandsons choose to get to know me, they’ll see how much I love them.

It takes time. And intentionality.