I’m Not the Grandma I Thought I Would Be – Philippians 4:12-13

This isn’t how I thought grandparenting would be. My grandmothers and my mom did it so well. My own grand-mothering started out to be much like theirs, but chronic pain changed my course.

For a few years I was able to help care for my grandchildren as I thought grandmas should. I carried them, dressed them, caught them when they ran toward the street. I played chase-and-tickle as they toddled around the kitchen. I led them to places of discovery and taught them to be brave when the rooster threatened.

After my first mission trip to Africa, I wrapped chitenge material around my infant grandson and tied him to my back, hoping to carry him down the mile-long road to the mailbox. Afraid I might strangle him, and remembering the four-year-olds in Zambia who did a better job making their siblings comfortable on their backs, I postponed our trip.

In San Angelo I took another grandson on an exploring trek, packing our snacks and water bottles. We made it to the Concho River where we discovered the carcass of a cat which he wanted to touch. I showed him how to poke it with a stick instead. After wilting all day in the Texas heat, we drenched ourselves in the sprinkler when we got home.

After that my arthritis pain slowed me down. I don’t stir cookie dough or lift large pots of spaghetti sauce anymore. My youngest grandchildren won’t remember me chasing them around the house. On our family camping trips I stay close to the trailer while they wander off. It’s easy for me to fall into despair about losing the ability to take part in some of their adventures.

I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me.

Philippians 4:12-13 ESV

Yet I can be content. I don’t expect I’ll experience suffering at the same level of the apostle Paul, but I’ll draw my strength from Jesus who helps me remain content whatever my state. He really is all I need.

Yesterday I sat on the bleachers for a grandchild’s school band concert. Three rows away my daughter-in-law sat alone, reserving a place for us. I wanted to be near her, but I knew I’d be too uncomfortable to stay long. I stood in the back.

Sometimes staying content is hard. In lack there is also great abundance. I’m sometimes overwhelmed by friends, for one thing, whose love pours out richly toward me. I can face plenty and need, remaining content in either place with the strength he provides.


Whom have I in heaven but you?
    And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you.
 My flesh and my heart may fail,
    but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

Psalm 73:25-26 ESV

Visiting Dead Cat Park wasn’t the best part of our day, nor was the impressiveness of my physical abilities the most memorable. What will endure in my grandson’s mind is his grandmother’s love for him. I pray he also recognizes her source of unending joy, strength, and contentment.

by Kathy Sheldon Davis

God Shows His Delight in Us – Zephaniah 3:16-17

My grandchildren have great radar, and it’s not because I carry candy in my purse. They are genuinely delighted to see me when I walk into church. Nothing is sweeter than hearing them holler “Grandma!” and come running to wrap their arms around me.

children-hugging-pexels-free-pixabay

We should call out to God like that

Some people don’t have the kind of family relationships they desire. There may be geographic or emotional distance, or other things that cause them pain.

We know how that feels, too.

When I think of this, I remember the foster child who lives in my grandchildren’s home. He’s right there with them, calling “Grandma!” and holding on to me. Though traumatized and separated from his birth family, he joins in, knowing I’ll hear and embrace him.

“Yea, you’re here!”

“Do not fear, Zion; do not let your hands hang limp. The Lord your God is with you, the Mighty Warrior who saves. He will take great delight in you; in his love he will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing” (Zephaniah 3:16-17 NIV).

God doesn’t just care deeply, he is “greatly delighted” with us. He’s with us. There’s rejoicing and singing. Everything’s going to be OK.

by Kathy Sheldon Davis

Perfection, and Not – Ephesians 2:4-7

Real children don’t always behave well, not like the cherished doll that adorned my bed. Real children come to us bringing messes, noises, and cries of protest. Not Priscilla. I bought her at a church bazaar with my babysitting money, after years of yearning for one of Mrs. Dillon’s dolls. Priscilla’s job was to spend the day exactly as I’d arranged her, propped against my pillow; pleasant, quiet, and clean. I came home from school to find she’d performed these duties flawlessly.

child dirty. free. rrsilvestre1. pixabay

Real people

My son stopped by briefly with his wife and children yesterday. While he was talking with my husband, I leaned against the van door to chat with his wife, their three sons, and their foster son.

The kids were loud and a bit disobedient. They’d just come from a BBQ and wore remnants of a meal on their faces. I couldn’t resist their hugs and updates on their day. Even my new little foster grandson called me grandma, not resting till I’d grabbed his hand and given him my attention.

My doll never did that.

Priscilla’s disguise

I didn’t discover my doll’s ruse until this week, when I remembered she wasn’t actually what she appeared to be. Priscilla was fashioned to look like a rag doll, but she was actually handcrafted from new materials. No rags, or anything second-hand, was used in her creation.

She was also a false friend. Her lips were stitched into a pleasant smile, but she couldn’t truly care about me, not like the little boys who reached for me from the back seat.

Free to love and be loved

That Christmas, my Sunday School class volunteered to provide a neighborhood family with Christmas gifts, and I donated Priscilla. It was truly a sacrificial gift, and sometimes I wish I’d kept her. It was better, though, to give her up to fulfill her purpose, bringing joy to a child in need.

In some ways I’m much like Priscilla. I am loved, cherished and protected, yet working in disorderly, noisy, uncomfortable places in order to share God’s love.

“. . . because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved. And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus” (Ephesians 2:4-7 NIV).

Some day I will see I’ve been sitting next to Jesus all along.

by Kathy Sheldon Davis