It’s 4am, and my youngest daughter is fitful. No deep and long dreaming tonight, but I don’t mind. Somewhere between the stress of climbing a flight of stairs every hour in the middle of the night and the happiness of being the Daddy that makes the night feel safe again, there’s a balance that doesn’t seem to allow resentment to exist. I’ll just keep listening to the static hiss of the monitor, and do what I always do in these in-between spaces – continue the endless imaginary conversations I have with people I care about.
Right now, it’s my grandparents. I spent a lot of time with them as a kid, mostly after they’d moved to NY. Before that it was the week or two weeks here and there at their place in MD, but when they moved closer I ended up at their place a lot.
I’ve always felt like a personality mosaic – a jigsaw puzzle composed of the people I’ve spent time with and loved. There was a long stretch of time when I would go to my grandparents’ place after school instead of home, because my parents were working. I loved every minute of the time I spent there – even regular chores seemed fun, and there was always something better around the corner, like a tasty dinner or a quick trip up to the pond to catch a bass or bluegill. They were always to optimistic about me, always made it so clear that they loved me, all the time. They’d bark at me now and then, like a mother dog telling her pups to stop chewing on her feet, but I don’t have a single memory of feeling put down or shaking my metaphorical fist at some unfairness.
So it was a really Good Thing for me, and there are pieces of my soul that I trace directly back to that part of my life – my ability to tie a bowline knot with my eyes closed in under five seconds, my driving style (not everyone sees this as a good thing), my devotion to logical pictures of the World.
A large and important piece of this mosaic: I believe they taught me how to love my best friend – Amy. I think a lot of people have helped to teach me this, and continue to - it’s a very cyclical process – but I wouldn’t know what qualities to respect and emulate if I hadn’t had good role models, and my grandparents are that classic couple that moves easily between being affectionately close, to being co-conspirators, to being an arm for the other to lean upon, and back, in the deepest sense of the vows they took when they were married. They showed me this goal, and it’s one of many things I want to be when I grow up.
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In my grandparents’ house, we would always pray together before meals, holding hands. I’ve never been a Christian and never prayed by myself, but I almost always participate in others’ prayers to some extent, out of respect for the positive hopes being expressed within them. So when I hear that others have prayed for me, I appreciate the love they’re showing by talking to the highest power they know on behalf of nobody in particular, just me.
It struck me this morning as I thought about my grandparents, wishing I could tell them all of this and infinitely more, wishing them even more strength and patience than they’ve already shown, that there isn’t much difference between what I’m wishing and what I would ask of God.
I guess I pray too.
Every day.
