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July 9, 2018

A Sacred Gift—Hannah

Just some early morning thoughts from me to you…

When Jesus saw this, he was indignant. He said to them, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” And he took the children in his arms, placed his hands on them and blessed them.”

Mark 10: 14-16 (NIV)

As we waited in our designated “waiting room”—I sensed a “Godly” urging to go downstairs to the labor and delivery area. It was off-limits to the public, even grandparents if you can believe that. Access was only through locked doors by code—or, as it would turn out, by Divine intervention.

And so I followed the urging of what had to be the Holy Spirit, went downstairs, and stood outside of the locked doors to the labor and delivery area. And then, “mysteriously” they swung wide-open (a nurse was leaving the area), allowing me to enter nearer to that sacred ground where our first grandchild was soon to be introduced to the world, and to us.

There I found myself, standing in that hallway approximately fifty feet away from the very delivery room—at the very time, as it turned out—that our precious first grandchild would enter the world.

And then I heard a baby’s cry—Hannah’s first cry.

And today is her birthday.

We didn’t know whether to expect a little girl or boy—Nathan and Amy wanted to be surprised. And so as I stood there, I prayed for the baby’s health and the health of her mom and dad, for the baby’s life and for wisdom and courage for Amy and Nathan, and others to always protect, make Godly decisions, and always seek the best for this precious child. I remember praying for the heart and future of our first grandchild—whose cry I know I had just heard—and for that time when our grandchild would come to know Jesus Christ, personally.

Moments after I had returned upstairs to where I was supposed to stay—unless God urged me otherwise—Nathan arrived on the scene to announce that the doctors were cleaning up his “two girls.” Our first grandchild was a little girl! All was well, and our 20 ½ inch long, 8 lbs. 3 ½ ounce precious bundle of potential was healthy and here for us to hold and adore for the rest of our lives.

I had heard it said, and had witnessed it in others, that it was an experience beyond understanding—being a grandparent, that is. Most grandparents I know feel that way. But it remained simply something abstract to Lynda and me, until that moment where it became a real and personal experience on July 9, 1999 at 12:33 p.m.

In that moment, I realized a love, courage and compassion that transcended anything I had known before in all of life—akin to the birth of our son. And on the occasion today of the celebration of her birth, my bride Lynda—“Mimi”—described it best when she and Hannah were looking at the framed picture of the first time “Mimi” held her precious granddaughter in her arms, just hours after she was born. “You took my breath away,” Lynda said and smiled through tears as they looked at the picture, and then the precious face standing before her.

And for us, she still does, and always will. As does our younger granddaughter, Ellie.

Oh how I wish that were the case for children and grandchildren everywhere. That every child, everywhere, of any age, would have someone in their life who feels that child is a precious gift of God—a child who “takes their breath away.” Just one person, who would bless them every moment of their life. Oh how I wish that were so for grandchildren and God’s “children of all ages,” everywhere.

May I be so bold as to suggest—“Why not?”

Why not you and me doing that for one child at a time, or one person of any age, each and every day?

Just something for us to think about, and do something about, today and every day for the rest of our lives.

Because that child you find “who takes your breath away” will never be the same, and neither will you.

Happy Birthday, dear precious Hannah. Happy Birthday.

In His Name—Gran (Scott)

Copyright 2018. Scott L. Whitaker. All rights reserved.

Posted by: Scott Whitaker at 6:00 am
Filed under: Thoughts

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